Ungoliant No Longer Sleeps (To Kiss or to Kill?)
by Lawforogres
Summary: After the war of the ring, a long forgotten enemy, Ungoliant, rises from sleep. Two sisters from our world manage to end up in Mirkwood, and they have a secret. How will the last evil be defeated? How will Legolas and Thranduil react to the sisters? Plot twists guaranteed... T for some sexual content in later chapters ! Romance/Humour/Adventure
1. Chapter 1

To kiss or to kill?

After the war of the ring, a long forgotten enemy, Ungoliant, rises from sleep. Two sisters from our world find themselves in Mirkwood. How will the last evil be defeated? Romance with with Legolas and Thranduil as well! Some sexual content in later chapters !

Hello! This is my first fanfic! I'm almost done with reading the first book of the Lord of the rings and I read the hobbit and the Silmarillion (long time ago). I LOVE the movie of the Hobbit and LOTR and…I love Legolas and Thranduil. As I'm in class being bored, I want to write a story! Yeaaah…so be nice with me cos it's my first one! Hope you enjoy!

**I don't own anything related to the Lord of the Rings or the Silmarillion or the Hobbit...or anything related to Tolkien's amazing works! Only Harlette, Bernard and Christine belong to me! I'm just having a good time writing and being a fan on fanfiction! :)**

xxxxxx

**Chapter 1**

Birthday and Valentine

Who are the unlucky few who happen to be born the day of Valentine's Day, February 14th?

**Harlette.**

She considered herself unlucky, for at 20 years old she was still single and still living with her parents and sister, Christine. Harlette never had met her biological parents, but seldom did she think about them, since her foster family gave her all the love and care she needed. Despite squatting her parents' abode, they were usually gone, so it was like living alone, without the hassle of paying the bills.

Harlette had just finished university and was a young published writer. And ironically enough, she was a romantic novelist. She had already published five books called: Love In His Arms, Love Me, Love You, True Love In The Afternoon and, Baby Love. However, she had decided to take a break, for this time, she believed her inspiration for original stories and titles was running short.

Today was her 20th birthday and Valentine's Day; Harlette had decided to go buy herself some sexy lingerie. Even though no man would see, she had come to the conclusion that _'you never know who you will meet in your dreams'_, so, BUY sexy clothing; at least she would feel better about herself. Moreover, she was in a hurry to retire to bed early and spare herself from witnessing all the couples exchanging saliva and flowers and presents…

She arrived home. A comfortable home, two storeys high, with cushy sofas, a pleasant dining room…. Going up the stairs she walked through the red-carpeted corridor. Opening the door, a baby blue bedroom with shelves laden with teddy bears welcomed her. It was time for her to follow Christine 's advice and change the decoration… o well, she still digged it!

Her eyes landed upon her bed and she smiled brightly at the plump white cat looking at her. 'Hey Bernard!'

Bernard had found her three years ago. Yes, Bernard had found her. One day, when Harlette was writing a story, she heard meows. Turning her focus from what she was doing to her window, her gaze encountered that of a gorgeous pristine white cat with bright blue eyes. As soon as the elegant animal strolled in, it claimed Harlette's bed as her own, and she never left. Yes, she. Despite Bernard being a masculine name, Harlette, since very young, had sustained the ambition of calling her future dog Bernard. Nevertheless, as it was a female who had strolled into her life, Harlette bestowed that name upon her.

The animal blinked and, with laziness weighting on her paws, she jumped off from where she was sitting and went up to greet her master. Taking Bernard in her arms she kissed her on the head, before dropping her back down on the pink rug.

'Look what I've bought!' she addressed the furry creature who, honestly, did not give a damn about Harlette's shopping experience. However, the pet's blue eyes enlarged when the girl waved the lacy red and black underwear. Harlette laughed at Bernard's disapproving gaze and decided that she would try it. She undressed quickly and put the newly purchased material on.

She admired her handsome features and feminine body in the long mirror at the wall. She smiled appreciatively at herself and placed a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. 'What do you think Bernard?' she asked the cat who seemed to frown. The animal descended from the bed and went to a chair where a black bathrobe with pink hearts was hanging. She pulled the hem of it till it fell to the ground. Bernard dragged it to Harlette who laughed and accepted it. She slipped it on.

Suddenly, upon seeing her half nude reflection she had an idea. She whirled to her cat. 'Wait, I got a burst of inspiration for a new story!'

'How bout. Imagine: a woman, a baker, who falls in love with a man who is a stripper…' she spoke, striking a cabaret-like pose by placing a foot on a nearby chair and bending over, in a fashion she deemed sensual. Her confidence faltered though when she gazed at her cat that stood motionless, with an expression bespeaking her overawe at Harlette's stupid idea. 'You know, like Moulin Rouge….'

_'A very bad version of Moulin Rouge_,' Bernard seemed to say when putting her paw over her face and shutting her eyes.

'It's not like you are help_' she stopped when looking at the mirror. The glass had started to glow, it was like rippling water.

Bernard shook and rushed to where Harlette was, her eyes fixed at the glimering glass. 'What on earth is that?' spoke Harlette while advancing towards it. She dared put her hand inside the water. The texture was that of satin ribbons sliding through her fingers, kissing them with warmth. She brought her limb back. 'What is this strange…thing….'

Her look searched for that of Bernard's whose mood was a gentle one, an unconcerned one. How odd…A smile even seemed to appear on the feline's furry pink lips.

Giggling dumbly, Harlette dipped her arm inside the Mirror anew, trying to reach for something, anything. 'That is so cool and_' Harlette stopped abruptly when a strange, invisible force from the other side pulled her in. Harlette screamed for it to let go, but to no avail. She was drawn into the mirror.

When she fell down and down in endless blackness, Harlette not only bellowed her horrified surprise but chided herself for having been so bold with the unknown.


	2. Chapter 2- Nude in Mirkwood

Chapter 2

Nude in Mirkwood

A blue sky stretched endlessly above a murky and quiet forest. The trees, with their old grey barks had their long branches curling up and up, blocking out any sun rays.

The skies opened and from that opening, a body fell out, screaming as it did.

Wind slapping on her face, Harlette banged against several branches as she was drawn down to the ground. She hit it with a thud, her face buried in the leaves. She coughed profusely. Her world was spinning and her eyes were shut. Branches, like claws had scratched her body, but nothing too serious-no broken bones or gaping wounds- considering the long miles of space that had stood between her and the earth. Her sore senses slowly became aware of the cool breeze whispering upon the leaves, which shivered, rustling like several tiny rivers. Some birds sang timidly. A black butterfly fluttered around her frame and landed on her head. Harlette suddenly jerked up in alarm, her eyes moving from side to side in their sockets.

She fondled to get up. Finally she did. Gazing down at what she was wearing she blushed and looked around, turned around, her hands protective over her body. She was in her underwear and seemed to have lost he bathrobe. What if some freak would walk by? This was the perfect spooky forest where she could easily picture some perv walking by, masturbating all the while.

She looked above her and to the right and to the left; everything was tainted black. Leaves and small twigs creaked beneath her step and she suddenly stumbled and shrieked when feeling something slimy move under the sole of her foot. Her eyes enlarged at the sight of a large black slug. Screaming, she darted through the blackness of the forest like a lost arrow.

Her hair was suddenly pulled by branches which, like long fingers, curled around her strands. Unhooking herself from their hold, she turned around, just to have a large brown moth, bigger than her head, collide with her chest, flapping its dusty wings on her terrified face. She fled from the beast and tripped and fell foreword, rolling downhill, over leaves and branches and through a giant spider web.

Coughing and moaning from pain, the girl stood back up and grimaced at sticky white threads glued to her whole body. Despite her trying to cool down, her heart still raced and seemed to only accelerate when she eyed the white fabric surronding her. Slowly, she turned around. Farther off, within the obscurity of this dense forest, huge spider webs, one over the other, crowded every space, every nook. Shivering and swallowing another scream, she sensibly deemed noise unsafe.

She yelped when hearing stealthy hissing sounds coming from one of these many webs.

A shadow. A shadow even too creepy for this forest-if that was possible- stood behind one of these fine white curtains.

Slender, long and sharp legs suddenly penetrated the soft webs, breaking through this white layer. Harlette's heart almost stopped when she saw the large, black, hairy body these legs dragged with them. Nimble on her feet, she ensconced herself behind a tree and watched the enormous spider come into view. A large abdomen it had, along with so many glistening eyes scanning their surroundings. And then, bellow these eyes, there were these huge jaws tipped with fangs, fangs dripping with transparent, poisonous and slimy liquid.


	3. Chapter 3- Alien VS Predator

Hello! I hope you are liking it so far…and I apologize if there are some spelling mistakes along the way…

Well, here is chapter 3! ENJOY!

**Chapter 3**

**ALIEN VS PREDATOR**

Harlette's chest heaved with a feeling she knew well, but that she hoped to repress; nausea born from fear. The young woman watched the creature as the palps on its head wiggled, feeling the stray stones, dead rats and leaves lying about.

Her eyes drawn to the aboves, she quietly beseeched god that all this was a nightmare!

The creature jerked suddenly, and even though it looked not in her direction, Harlette knew it had sensed her presence.

She stepped backwards, her senses screaming inside her head, for when she turned around to flee, she faced a trio mutant arachnids towering over her, high on their bony and hairy legs. The fourth one, the one she had first laid eyes upon, treaded behind her and she looked at it, and then back at the others. With their fat bodies nestled between their bended legs as their many eyes fixed their prey, Harlette realised they were ready to pounce.

The foul creatures seemed to communicate with each other, for they emitted several little noises, their palps moving from left to right in some sort of code. Harlette tried to step to the side but one of the spiders spoke, its whispering voice creaking. 'I didn't know there were ones like these here?'

'Very rare. It has not happened since... I fail to remember,' the other one hissed.

'What do you want!? Is this some kind of joke?' Harlette yelled at them, her shaky voice trying to exude confidence. The spiders stopped their plotting and turned instantaneously to their victim. They began to snicker before gracing her question with an answer, which was to simultaneously throw themselves upon her. With a prayer blaring from her lips, the girl was thrown to the ground, but managed to shun their legs and fangs. But she got cornered.

The largest of the four mutants towered over her, its jaws opening and closing, its fangs growing. Harlette screamed hysterically, and her fingers felt the shape of a sharp stone. Instinctively she tossed it as hard as she could. It violently burst into the eye of her predator who stumbled backwards and fell on its back, its legs curling up from pain. The other three threw themselves at their senseless companion and tried to devour it.

Harlette's eyes widened and she cringed when hearing the screams of the suffering spider. Suddenly, her heart pursed and she could not remain inactive. Grabbing several rocks she threw them at the cannibals. 'Leave him or her alone!' she commanded at the top of her lungs. The three arachnids hissed and began to chase after her. She fled, drowning into the endless blackness of the woods.

Other spiders, smaller or bigger than the precedents, and blacker than the night, began to swing down from trees and run after the frantic and naked romantic novelist. The arachnids flung their sticky threads in every direction, attempting to block any opportunity of escape. But Harlette was quick and nimble, and she managed to slip between small spaces, slide under branches, and skip over fallen trunks. She despaired when admitting herself breathless and lost in a world that was so darkly alien to her. How was it even possible? And where was that plump Bernard when she needed her?

Suddenly, from the blackness of that forest sprang many lights; torches. Harlette ran towards them, screaming like a maniac, her arms flailing. She slipped and fell forth, face in the dirt. She lifted her stare upwards to gaze at where the torches had been; the lights had disappeared. The sound of hisses and growls crawled from behind her and she paled at the sight of at least thirty spiders, descending from the trees, running along their threads till they reached the ground. They approached her, sniggering as they did.

A whizzing object hit one of the eight legged beasts which fell lifeless to the ground.

Arrows suddenly sprang from darkness and showered over the giant tarantulas. Harlette stayed sprawled to the ground, her eyes shut, with her hands on her head as the spiders either died or fled. Soon, the woods fell silent. Harlette coughed. She looked around and there was nothing, no one. She got to her knees and was going to get up, but found she could not, for the tip of an arrow kissed the hollow between her collarbones. Her breathing ceased as she watched a tall and dark silhouette through her lashes, and she wondered if it was an Alien VS Predator movie she had just stumbled into.

**I hope you are liking it so far! Thank you for reading, and if you have any comments & suggestions, please let me know! okay...next chapter up tomorow! :)**


	4. Chapter 4- other dimension, with no cat!

Hello! I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far…! It's my first one so be nice… hahaha I'm having loads of fun writing this…Specially when I'm bored in class.… ;)

Okay, so here is chapter 4!

**Chapter 4**

**Another dimension, with no way back, no clothes and with no cat.**

Harlette shivered despite her will to control her emotions. Her heart thumped hard when the sharp tip of the arrow began to run, slowly, along her skin, tracing the contours of the exposed, round upper halves of her breasts which went up and down with her every breath. Was this stranger doing that on purpose to torment her? Feeling male presence all around her, and well aware of her very vulnerable state, embarrassed anger cornered her emotions and she slapped the arrow away from her blushing body. The stranger did not relent however and the arrow, now, pointed to her forehead. The men around gave low chuckles. And from him, she only caught the glimpse of a brief smirk which flashed in the darkness. Oh no…was she going to be rapped…

This shadow with that menacing arrow began to speak. His grave voice was soft and musical, and uttered words she could not understand, for they were of a foreign origin. Harlette frowned, clearly confused by this situation. The arrow's sharp tip travelled along the bridge of her nose, stopped beneath her chin and lifted it up. Her body yielded to the command, yet not her gaze.

The male voice spoke again, this time firmer.

'I don't understand a single word you're saying,' she let out at last. The figure fell silent, simply staring at her. His companions tightened the circle around the addled girl.

Brief sunlight managed to pierce through the dense shadows of the forest. Her eyes moved from side to side in their sockets, and her bamboozlement only grew when beholding these extremely handsome men. Their hair, either blond or brown, was long and braided. All of them carried long knives, a bow and a quiver of arrows. They were armored, and their silver helmets had beautiful designs of them; in fact, their armors crafted with moonstones were so beautiful they seemed to have been forged by magicians. Well, it seemed her fate was not so bad after all...

Harlette dared look up at her captor, but gasped in surprise when finding him crouching, inches away from her. Her heart almost stopped when she beheld the perfection which was his face. She failed to admire all of it, for half of it was concealed by the work of art which was the helmet, but those full lips made for pleasure and those crystalline eyes, wise, strong and wild at the same time, were those of an angel, no doubt.

Harlette blinked several times, and she blushed when realizing she had been ogling him a great deal for the past five minutes. Moreover, he had spoken, and this time, in the English she knew well.

'Who are you? What are you doing in these woods?'

Silence. The girl opened and closed her mouth and no sound came out.

'Answer my question, mortal,' spoke the angel before her, standing up on both feet. The romance writer copied his motion timorously. His armor, much like his surrounding companions, was beautiful and shone even in darkness, but a red cape was draped over his shoulders. Harlette surmised he was their leader; most probably a general… He was of a majestic and intimidating beauty, but there was something wild and passionate about him, however his cold gaze burning into her soul made her want to defy him no further.

'I'm Harlette…' she stuttered. 'I'm…I'm lost…I think…' her trembling and uncertain voice faded into silence. Abruptly, she frowned. 'Wait a minute! This is a joke right?' she suddenly screamed at his face and giggled. He gave one step back, partially surprised at her sudden reaction. 'What?' the general asked, his voice tinged with irritation.

'It's some MTV show, right? Like Flash Prank or Punk'd…even though I'm not that famous yet…!' she faltered and her eyes suddenly shone, as she considered the idea of being notorious. 'Well, maybe I am…' she let out slowly and turned to him. 'Maybe, you _all_ read my books!' she exclaimed, a finger pointing at everybody around her.

The men looked at each other inquisitively.

'What books?' inquired the general in a clipped manner.

'Love in His Arms?' she named and looked at the men about who only shook their heads, their lips trying to repress curling smiles. The general remained very serious. Harlette realized Love in His Arms ringed no bell, and so went on with naming the others…'Love Me, Love You, True Love In The Afternoon and, Baby Love!... I bet you read every line!' she whirled back to the general, hands on her hips, almost ranting at his face, her visage turning red with anger. No answer. His eyes glided from her eyes to her nose, to her lips, to her neck and to her porcelain breasts, raised high by the bra, the upper halves well exposed. His gaze began to drift lower. 'Stop checking me out!' she snapped. He did not heed her comment and kept on studying her up and down as if watching a wild animal. Crimson cheeked and powerless, she lifted her hand and readied to slap his face but he grabbed her fist. Harlette emitted a scream from sudden pain; he did not crush her fingers, yet, from his touch, like magic, a sudden burning sensation shot through her arm, exploding in her brain; worse than the sting of a hundred wasps. She yelled and her legs gave way and she fell to her knees before him. He released her as soon as she had reached the ground, tears pooling in her eyes. She glared at him, her body throbbing from stinging ache. 'What was that?! What did you do?! How did you do this?!' she said breathless.

'I will take you to the king for questioning,' he merely told her. Harlette looked around and swore she saw some guards smile. Where they amused? Well, she was mortified. Where was she? Who were these maniacs? She was really beginning to believe she was in another dimension, with no way back, no clothes and with no cat.

She was unceremoniously brought up to her feet. She was blindfold and her hands were bound. They beckoned her to fall into step with them.

'Wait! if this is not a joke, can you please tell where I am?'

No answer graced her question.


	5. Chapter 5- Meet the King!

Hello! Here is chapter 5! Feel free to give me your opinions and even make some suggestions!

Okay…let's continue to follow this poor Harlette's adventures…shall we? ;)

**Chapter 5**

**Meet the King!**

Harlette walked blindly through these dark woods, but if her sight had been allowed to participate in this journey, she would have seen at a certain point, a long bridge leading across a swift and murky river to large doors leading to the mouth of the largest cave ever imagined. The cave was an enormous hill covered with trees and beeches.

She was thrust across the bridge and through the great doors which closed immediately behind them.

Inside, everything was vast and beautiful, with large pillars supporting the beautiful ceilings. Of course, with Harlette being blind, she failed to contemplate the beauty of the place. However, she could hear, and there was music resounding throughout the place; the habitants of this strange world sang, songs of joy and sorrow, and they clapped, and they laughed. This blissfulness booming within these great halls surprised her; indeed, the woods and these men looked so grim, little did she imagine they would take her to a somewhere where silence consisted of music and laughter. She had the urge to rip the blindfold off and scan every detail of her surroundings.

Suddenly, there the a creaking sound of great wooden doors being opened. Laughter and chatter carried by sudden wind abruptly slapped her face and she stumbled backwards slightly. However, when she was pushed into the room, she sensed the presence of many a soul and many eyes upon her. She was called to halt. Her blindfold was removed and her eyes regained focus. Silence resounded around her as she looked to the right, then to the left and foreword and behind, almost whirling around herself like a dervish.

The room, carved in living precious stone, was ornamented with wood and plants and lavish with beautiful objects and designs. And despite this humongous space being bereft of windows, it was somehow luminous and the air circling all around was fresh and clean. Her eyes encountered those of beings she never had imagined existed; angels with leaf shapes ears, gorgeous attires and long hair. They all looked at her, their stares bespeaking their intense curiosity and even suspicion. Some drew back at her presence.

Harlette felt the general thrust her through the crowd which parted, across the glittering stone beneath her feet, and up to the end of the room where sat a beautiful throne made of cavern wood. 'Will you stop pushing me around like a big bully? If I'm on MTV's _Flash Prank_ please, let me know!' she beseeched bitterly, trying to turn around to glare at him, but her attempts failed, for powerless under his force. She manifested her displeasure, for still convinced all this was a big game. 'Refrain from screaming pointlessly: you are about to meet the king,' the general warned, his stern voice somehow tinged with slight, _very slight_ amusement.

Harlette stumbled to the ground and she growled in anger and snapped her face up to glare at the vacant throne which stood a little higher before her. She had no time to ask where this so-called king was when the general jumped lightly over her body, took off his helmet and, giving it to one of the maids, sat on the throne, his expression indifferent and even arrogant.

'Kneel for Thranduil, the eleven King,' the general, who was in fact the king, ordered Harlette who had stood up, her lips dry at the sight of the most beautiful creature she had ever seen or even dared to imagine.


	6. Chapter 6 The Elven King

**Chapter 6 **

**The Elven King**

Harlette stood utterly baffled before this fair and arrogant angel before her, with ears shaped like leaves and eyes of bright emeralds, where wilderness and earnestness stirred. His shimmering bright blond hair, almost white, was braided at the top of his head and fell over his shoulders in endless rivers of silk. His body was muscular and lean, his features were sharp, and their flawlessness only enhanced the perfection of his masculinity.

A man servant, dressed in green robes came soundlessly by his ruler, placing atop his head a crown of branches, red leaves and berries, and handed him a carven staff of oak. Harlette simply gazed at this fairytale-like vision who watched her. Was all this real? If it was, she desperately wished to ask him where she was, but he left her no time to even stir a finger, for he resumed conversation straight away,

'Speak, mortal. What were you doing in my woods?'

Harlette rolled her eyes at his question –and earned her several gasps of outrage from the crowd. 'I told you earlier, fathead! _I was and still am lost_! Is that a crime?'

The court, the maids and the guards went very still and attentive, dreading the fate the mighty king might inflict upon this bold human. His eyes frosted with ice and his voice grew less gentle by the second. 'It is a crime to wander in my woods with no permission, using the paths that my people made.'

'You call absolute darkness filled with spiders and webs _a path_?' she shot back, laughing, hands at her waist, and striding forwards. The king's mood grew stormier. Guards grabbed Harlette and pulled her down, forcing her wiggling self to kneel before him.

'Your speech sounds like that of a stubborn dwarf! There are paths, for those with sight, not blind fools such as you,' he let out bitterly. He eyed her up and down. 'Indeed, for only a blind, witless fool would venture through my realms unarmed, naked and without leave!'

Harlette's cheeks reddened and her hands unconsciously went round her bust, trying to cover her chest. Her reaction did not go unnoticed by the Elven King's sharp eyes. He heaved a sigh. 'Hand her a cloak!'

Upon his command, a green cape was proffered to her. She immediately wrapped herself in it. O, she really hated herself for choosing to voyage through mirror/time/dimensions (whatever it was called) in sexy lingerie; lingerie that was meant for, ''technically'', one man, was now seen by a whole crowd.

'I was NOT naked!' she voice challenged, barely above a whisper. Her interlocutor let out a loud grunt, bespeaking cold amusement. He studied her before thrusting a majestic, long fingered hand forth, 'Then hand over the cloak.'

Harlette drew back and shook her head negatively, her face flaming as she caught sight of stealthy amusement curling the curious public's lips. She was about to utter a senseless retort, just to snap back, but she was too bruised, humiliated and battered for that. Anyway, he beat her to conversation.

'Not only did you rouse the spiders with your hysteria, but you have defended one most vehemently!'

'I did not defend that monster!' she countered. He shot to his feet, 'You defended a foul creature, we saw you!'

Harlette's startled heart jerked in her chest and she stood motionless, her lips quavering with the need to insult him. The tense atmosphere drowned her senses in despair. What was happening? And yes, she had defended this nightmarish soul…but why?

'Pity…' was her timid answer. Thranduil frowned, sat back on his throne and repeated her word, accentuating it with a questioning tone, inviting her to elaborate.

'I heard its screams of anguish and ache…they got to me; I could not leave it be! I am proud of what I have done since this was my choice…' she dared smile, 'and maybe, if I'm in trouble in your forest one day, this creature might help me in the future,' she shrugged. However, what she had meant as some sort of joke to liven up the mood, the king saw it as blatant act of bravado; she was defying his power by fraternizing with Middle Earth's enemy.

Cold wind suddenly slapped against the walls. The whole room began to quaver and the public stepped away from a very frightened and confused Harlette. A mirror idly resting against one of the walls creaked and cracked and suddenly exploded, the zillion pieces whizzing through the air. Gasps shot from every mouth, safe from that of the king who remained still, his eyes black with acidic ire.

'Help you in the _future_?' he echoed her words after a long pause. 'What business do you plan with them in the _future_?' he asked, his voice like cracking ice. Harlette swallowed. 'This is not what I meant. It was a joke! I have no business with them! Not that I know of! I'm was giving an example!' she stammered. '_'Not that you know of_'' he parroted, starring at her condescendingly.

'No! I swear! I just helped this creature, yes. But it was just out of pity! I swear. I have nothing to do with them_'

'You pity enemies. The worst kind of enemies. No one pities these creatures. Not even they pity themselves,' he interjected darkly. He watched her and slowly got up from where he was sitting. He drew towards her soundlessly. 'These foul creatures were made by evil. They know nothing else, and you defend them?'

Now he stood right before her.

She tilted her head up to challenge his intense stare. 'I don't know why I did what I did, but I am not a bad person. I am lost.'

'Dol Guldur has been destroyed, the One Ring has been destroyed,' he paused, circling an unmoving Harlette who watched him gapingly, thinking him bonkers. What on earth was 'Dol Guldur' and 'The One Bling'...or was it 'Ring'?

'Mirkwood has been rid of Sauron's evil. Elves fought once again at the side of men and helped them rebuild Minas Tirith. We even have welcomed amity with dwarves,' he smirked at the idea. Harlette remained dumfounded and silent. 'For eighteen years now we have dwelled in peace here, in Mirkwood. Eighteen years is not much, but no matter: Middle Earth is at peace, be it in sorrow for the loss of many loved ones, or be it in joy for the rebirth of loveliness; it is at peace.' He watched Harlette intensely. 'And now,' he sighed, coming nearer. 'It has been for two weeks now that orcs and spiders have been reported within these woods. And suddenly, you, set foot here, challenging my authority by socializing with these foul things and claiming future business with them?'

Harlette screamed her fury. This situation was getting out of hand. 'You are ridiculous! Didn't you understand what I just told you? And what in hell is Mirkwood!? and the One Bling and Dol whatever?! Just let me go! Your perpetual questions are so dumb! You are mean and you have no heart!'

Upon the king's command, guards ceased her by the arms, making sure she could no longer move. 'Young mortal. I doubt my questions foolish. The only fool here is you, refusing to cooperate and tell me what your business is here with these foul things…' he talked slowly, anger rippling at the edge of his voice. 'I told you! and you insist on bullying me! You have got no heart!' Harlette's eyes pooled with tears of despair. What was she to do?

'I have got no heart? So this is how you see me? I will show you how heartless I can be,' his coldly smiling lips warned. He drew nearer, and she shivered when feeling his breath upon her. Her eyes found his and his stare stung her; she yelped at the pain striking within her pupils. She was forced to look down rapidly. His hands went to her waist, and before she could react, he pulled on her protective cloak. It fell to the ground at her feet. She dared not stir. He whispered in her ear, his voice grave and sensual.

'I will make you regret the sharpness of your tongue and the disturbance you caused within my realm.' He stepped back and his gaze burned her, but she remained unmoving, her expression stern, challenging. He spoke louder, addressing his prisoner and the whole court. 'I have every right to know what in Mordor brings you here, and if you choose to remain quiet about it, I will keep you in prison until you learn better manners and confess! You shall get only water. No food, no clothes. No one will speak to you, unless you agree to confess!' his voice echoed throughout the space, the halls, every corner of this huge place which was the palace.

'You call this dark garden filled with spider-webs a _realm_? Well I pity your sorry ass.' Harlette spat at his feet.

**hahaha! Poor girl! But in the books the king is not the funnest person ever to walk the surface of Middle earth...and as he believes her to be plotting with his sworn enemy and challenging him, he's bound to act less clement...o well...Hope you liked it! Tomorrow More to come! :D **


	7. Chapter 7 - Cold Dark Cell

**Helloooooo! I'm BACK! With two chapter!**

**Thank you so much for the reviews guys! (and yes, class is boring...I take night courses...) **

**And yes...Thranduil is not the nicest elf on earth...but it makes it all the more interesting... ;) hahaha So hold on to your seats! 8-) **

**Chapter 7**

**Cold Dark Cell**

Harlette failed to recall what had happened after her demented act of earlier: spitting shamelessly on the mighty King's feet. Well, he deemed it his right to know what her business in his dark garden consisted of, and, she believed it her right to spit at his feet, given the fact he was a big bully with overgrown assurance. He was probably trying to compensate for something he didn't have...which would explain why he behaved like such a troll.

Anyway, Harlette was ushered out of the great hall. Everything happened so fast, and before she knew it, she was being pushed down an infinite number of stairs, her vision assaulted by the growing darkness of many corridors.

The guards, and the detainee, walked by various crowded cells enclosing the frightening silhouettes of more than one monster; beings disfigured by slime and mire, claws, growls, crooked noses and evil eyes. The romantic novelist would later learn of the existence of orcs.

At last, she was brought in a small, cold, unfurnished dark room.

She remained there for a couple of hours until, seemingly, the king had taken pity (or further condensation) upon her vulnerable state, and had sent for guards to bring her some bread and covers. But Harlette refused everything, coughing and shivering as she did. 'I'll accept the water, but he can shove his bread and his covers up his arse. Make sure you tell him that,' she had spat. The door closed with a clang.

She was bruised and weary and wondered of Christine and her parents' whereabouts. Did they know of her disappearance?

Everything had happened so fast and most dramatically. Harlette had lost her temper before the king of darkness -so she called him- when she should have remained sober, gently asking him about this alien world. But no. She did not do any of that, so what did she expect from him if not harsh treatments -she was lucky enough he did not behead her.

She stayed confined there for a whole day, and despite the guards giving her water and bread-bread which she went on declining- now and then, neither the wind nor even the idea of some lonesome ghost came to visit her. The only sound that dared interrupt the silence of it all were her breathings and the clang of the door each time it closed.

It only had been a day, but it felt like it had been a week in this icy room. Time crawled and there was no one around. She was utterly alone in darkness and she hated darkness and she cried, wishing all this to be but a silly nightmare.

Despite the hunger and the cold, tiredness gathered upon her eyelids and she gave in to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8- The Wine of Dorwinion

**Chapter 8**

**The Wine of Dorwinion **

A timid rising sun bathed Mirkwood in a golden glow. However, just like these past two weeks now, that glow did not last, and the woods which were green once again became dark.

Upon feathered wings, birds of all kinds went from tree to tree, but they did not sing upon this morning, and this concerned the elven king, for suddenly, their singing in his darkening woods was growing rare.

Even though seldom seen, orcs and spiders had newly showed up and lurked, terrifying mighty and meek animals alike.

What was happening?

Wood-elves, with their ruler's son at their head, had been sent off early in the morning on patrol. Somehow, something dark seemed to grow beyond the borders, feeding on life, eating light and drawing closer to Mirkwood with every bite. Thranduil did not accompany the guards for he needed time to think.

He walked into the great hall and sat upon his throne, leaning further in its recess, pensively. Yesterday's events had irritated him gravely, but no matter how angered he was, he still sustained a certain fascination for the girl who had so boldly defied his power. He was the high Elven King, he was old and wise and had fought many a war; he could not allow such trespassing be crowned with such disrespect. And most of all, he could not allow danger wondering free throughout his realm. Had she anything to do with this resurrecting darkness?

He wished to believe the young mortal's claim, but her words betrayed facts: how could one feel pity for something so repulsive and evil? All in Middle Earth feared those creatures; how could she be alien to what they represented? Was she an extremely bad liar?

Her eyes. Those eyes had the same stubbornness pertaining to dwarves. And that stubbornness reminded him of_

'Someone is outside,' Thranduil let out suddenly, interrupting his own thoughts.

The butler, Galion, standing at the other end of the glimmering stone nodded. Silently he left the room.

Thranduil remained quiet and his sharp ears began to listen.

He heard the rustle of rivers flowing swiftly across the land, and the wind's caress upon grass and trees.

He heard autumn leaves unhook themselves from branches. He then heard them float down till they kissed the earth.

And then, he heard her sobs in the deepest, coldest, darkest part of the palace. Thranduil's crystal eyes frowned at that; could she not sob less loudly? He surmised the reason he could not make merry was because she sobbed too loudly, and thus polluted his gentle mood with slight guilt. He reminded himself to gag her next time.

He heard the faint sound of birds chirping-at last, they had resumed their songs- at the far away distance, beyond the palace's walls. But when he concentrated a little more, he heard them with crystal clarity; the birds seemed timid in their joy and worrisome in their songs. They sang of an ancient shadow. Another reason why making merry was not possible for the king: growing foreboding cornered his senses.

Galion stepped into the room. 'Your majesty was right. There is indeed a new presence. We have found a cat, going by the name of Bernard.'

'Bernard? A cat?'

'A white cat, my Lord…'

Thranduil raised a brow at Galion's useless input. The later shook his head and harrumphed a little before speaking anew, 'she claims Harlette is her master.'

Thranduil's gaze was lightened with new found hope and an ounce of curiosity. 'Let her in.'

The butler did not have to stir, for the great doors opened and in came a disheveled, furry white beast, wobbling as it did.

'What brings you here, reeking of alcohol?' Thranduil inquired, ever so patiently like the wise king that he was.

Bernard sluggishly walked all around the room, in zig zags, climbing on tables and settees, her expression addled.

'She was found in your cellars, my king, drinking from the wine barrels we've just brought from Lake Town. She was most probably drinking your health…' he tried to jest, 'for she helped herself to the wine of Dorwinion,'

The wine of Dorwinion was a beverage only served at the high table. Moreover, this wine was so powerful it could make an elf drowsy-since elves never got drunk-, and send this one to pleasant dreams, blessing him with thumping headaches the next day.

Thranduil rose an elegant brow. 'What is your business here, Bernard. What is your connection with the human? Speak!'

Bernard let out a loud belch. Galion, who stood next to the uncouth pet, readied to gather some towels, fearing this one might heave, for her head bobbed and her mouth opened and her tongue stuck out limply. Nevertheless, she did not give in to illness. She spoke. 'I came to see Harlette. She is my master. We are not from here…we came through a magic mirror…we are not from here…I want my master…we are lost….I want my master…we are lost…I'm lost…'

Thranduil's listened to the inebriated stammering.

'Her wits are muddled, she will be of no use now. Perhaps we should give her a place to rest and interrogate her later,' Galion offered.

'A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts,' Thranduil replied, more to himself than to the other elf. Bernard meowed to no one in particular and began the sluggish pursuit of her own tail. Thranduil leaned back in his throne, a hand to his chin as he watched the feline stumble as she resumed to promenade about the room. Thranduil's lips curled ever so slightly upwards.

'Put the beast in the same cell as her master. I will ponder their fate,' said the king at last.

...

...

...

**Ta ta ta taaaa! what's gonna happen now...?**

**Hope you liked it! **

**Thank you for your kind reviews! Hugs&kisses! :D**


	9. Chapter 9- keep walkin'

**Oooo yeah! I'm back! Thanks so much for the reviews guys! **

**And yes, Thranduil is nicER…;) but let's hope he becomes nicer and nicer throughout the story…we'll see…but it's going to be hard as the elf king is no young elfling…. ;) **

**Okay, HERE GOES…ENJOY: **

**Chapter 9**

**Keep walkin'**

The clang made by the closing door startled Harlette from her slumber. The young woman beamed at the sight of a very familiar ball of fur. 'Bernard!' she exclaimed ecstatically.

'Hello Harley.'

Harlette, who had stood up to gather Bernard in a tight embrace, yelped and almost pegged herself to the wall, her mouth hanging in overawe. 'Beg your pa-pa-pa…pardon…?'

'I know. Listening to my brilliant soprano voice is a shock the first time. But as you are bruised, battered, and hungry and in an unknown land, I suppose this is just a pleasant bonus…'

Harlette remained silent and drew closer to the talkative feline and, stooping to the floor, reached for the bowl of water which had been given to her by the guards earlier. She slurped its content, her eyes fixed on the creature.

'You smell like...beer..?' Harlette hemmed. Bernard gave her a toothy grin. 'Wine actually. I took a trip to the king's cellar. Quite easy to go through the guards when you're a cat. I treated myself...I'm still a little tipsy though, and my reactions are rather slow...' she sighed before continuing. 'But I had to pretend I was much drunker in front of the king and his minions, so they would drop down their guards when I stole their keys,' she revealed proudly, and before Harlette could emit any sound expressing joy and relief, Bernard gave a series of chesty coughs till she gracelessly spat something slimy on the ground.

'It's true…no one would suspect a cat,' Harlette added, grimacing at the keys covered in dribble.

'Especially a drunk one!' Bernard annexed, with a flourish of her paw. Harlette beamed and scuttled towards the wet object, but before she could reach it, she coughed loudly. Her body quavered.

'You are unwell…' Bernard pointed out solemnly, concerned about the human's suddenly fragile health.

Harlette sniffed and rubbed her hands together. 'Bad cold…what do you expect…I'm naked and the bastard king gave me nothing…well,' she hesitated. 'I refused food and covers.'

Harlette coughed once more, her frozen skin almost blue. 'Bernard…' she rasped. 'What happened? This mirror? You're talking...this world is no joke, right...?'

The cat shook her head. 'I know nothing. I'm as perplexed as you are. All I know is that we should get you out of here before you catch your death. And I mean this quite literally, I doubt the king will allow you to live, especially if he believes you're flirting with his sworn enemy…'

'Flirting with his enemy? Since when does the sight of a hairy spider turn me on? I'd much rather flirt with him, he's quite a looker!'

Silence stretched between the two, and Harlette slapped a palm to her mouth, blushing as she did.

'I'll pretend I did not hear that...' Bernard assured slowly as if talking to an unruly child. 'And regarding your flirting with the enemy; when I was brought to meet the king, I overheard the guards talk among each other. They said you saved a spider.'

'A mutant spider!'

Bernard raised a furry brow at assertion. 'And you're proud of that?'

The girl heaved a sigh of frustration and dropped her hands to her sides. 'I just pitied the damn thing; it's not its fault if it's huge and gross!'

Both of them looked at each other intently.

'But don't you find the king kinda hot? HO! You think he finds me attractive?' Harlette abruptly grinned.

Bernard blinked in confusion and Harlette jerked and slapped her own face, literally. 'What the hell am I saying?!' she cried out.

Bernard blinked several times again, something strange was going on. 'It must be this room...it has a strange effect on me...makes me think things that are not my thoughts...' Harlette stuttered.

'Better you keep your thoughts to yourself if you come across the king...' Bernard warned her master. 'Let's leave now. It would be wise,' Bernard offered, handing the keys to the blushing and ashamed writer. 'Wait a minute...' the latter spoke, looking down at her pristine white companion. 'What if they are guards behind this door?'

'No one is guarding this door,' the feline affirmed confidently. 'I smell and hear no one. They seem to have gone...maybe they went to attend the feast...'

'The feast?'

'Yes, I also overheard this information in the cellars. The Wine was being poured into great flasks for the feast of midday...It is almost midday, and elves never fail to make merry...'

'Elves?' Harlette repeated questioningly. Bernard whirled around quickly, as if caught red handed doing something she shouldn't have been doing. 'Elves? Like in fairytale books?'

Bernard faltered and at last smiled innocently. 'Well yes! It's obvious they are elves...I read about them in...Magazines...'

Harlette considered this theory. '…O-K...'

She prepared to open the door but Bernard's white paws lightly scratched her leg in warning.

'It seems quite odd though, that no one is guarding this door. But this palace is so protected, and the cells buried so deep, they must believe it's utterly impossible for one to escape. But I remember the way, for I can smell where I have been last...all I have to do is catwalk backwards...' Bernard finished, with Harlette eyeing her with little confidence. Nevertheless, in the cat's intoxicated mind, she still thought it odd to have nobody around...it was almost too easy... but they dwelled no further in this sentiment of uncertainty.

Harlette grabbed the keys. The cell's door opened.

Both master and pet were confronted with a dark and vacant corridor.

'I will go in the front. Despite elves making no sound, I will be able to smell them and warn you of their approach,' Bernard assured.

Harlette raised a brow at Bernard's detailed explanations about elves…

'Elves make no sound? What are they? Some kind of gods? And how do you know all that?' the girl asked with a slight cough, catching up with her friend which was already disappearing in the blackness.

'Shut your trap and keep walkin'.'


	10. Chapter 10 - Escaping? Too easy!

**Oooo yeah! I'm back! Thanks so much for the reviews guys! **

**And yes, Thranduil is nicER…;) but let's hope he becomes nicer and nicer throughout the story…we'll see…but it's going to be hard as the elf king is no young elfling…. ;) **

**Okay, HERE GOES…ENJOY: **

**Chapter 9**

**Escaping? Too easy! **

Down the many corridors Bernard and Harlette crept. Following the former's nose, they managed to find their way in this labyrinth which was the palace. Nevertheless, with the wine still maintaining fast hold over her senses, Bernard was slow to react, and sometimes turned left instead of right.

They had been running amuck for more than thirty minutes now and, oddly enough, no guards were found. It was strange. So strange in fact, and many a time did Bernard consider this unnatural (since it was so very odd to leave prisoners unguarded) occurrence, but with her senses still too inebriated for her to take proper action, she simply accepted the situation as it was. Harlette accepted it: 'They are too good looking, so they must have a flaw. They are probably good looking and _dumb_?' she would analyze.

They scurried along the walls which gained in luminosity as they climbed up. They passed through a big room, with a large window viewing the endless horizon of trees. The great trees of Mirkwood, upon which large-winged and multi- colored butterflies fluttered joyously. Both master and pet surmised the time to be midday, for the golden sun was high up (what a shame it failed to illume the gloominess beneath the trees) and, moreover, laugher and music was heard echoing within the walls. The guards were most definitely at the gathering.

Their steps upon the carpeted floor went unheard. This escape was too easy. However, their peace was short lived for voices suddenly emerged from silence, coming from the other end of the corridor the escapees were in. One of the voices was familiar; it was that of the king! He was speaking to other elves, about the hunt that would take place later in the afternoon. The elves were eager for it and, taking their leave, the king was left on his own. Bernard smelled his approach. 'He's coming this way!'

The fugitives ran the opposite direction. Passing through several hallways, they were suddenly confronted with stairs going up and stairs going down. They both knew down would lead to the cells, therefore, they opted for up. They climbed grand marbled steps. Up and up they went till they were lost in another hallway, illumed by torches along the walls. Bernard spotted a great white carven wooden door, and in her despair she spoke, 'get in!'

It was a magnificent and luminous bedroom. Harlette immediately directed herself to the grand window, blessing her eyes with the beautiful picture of the endless and dense forest. But this was of no interest to her when spotting a big cupboard, and rejoicing upon the clothes hanging. Male clothes. Quickly she slipped brown breeches and a dark green tunic on. They were too big for her, but she was so cold and unwell, she would not be picky.

Meanwhile, Bernard stood immobile, smelling the air, growing distrust showing upon her countenance.

On the large bed, Harlette found a ruby, satin ribbon resting upon one of the many pillows. She raised her brow. She believed this room to pertain to a male, and the presence of that piece of fabric was unexpected. Maybe it was that of his wife or girlfriend... despite being aware she should not be taking it, her body moved of its own free will and, in a matter of seconds, her hair was knotted into a long, messy braid and tied with the ribbon.

'What's wrong Bernard?' Harlette coughed, her knees giving way as she slumped on the bed. Her head ached, her throat hurt and breathing was getting difficult. Her surroundings were spinning and nausea was catching up with her senses. She was ill.

'It's his room.'

'What?' Harlette asked, turning to a petrified Bernard. 'His room. It's his room! The king's room. It's his smell!'

'O I bet he smells delicious…spicy…a deep, masculine, _sexual_ scent…' Harlette moaned and stretched as she lay upon the bed, clumsily, half asleep, fantasizing about all the nasty_

Bernard violently pounced on her face. 'What on earth is wrong with you!?'

Harlette shrieked and slapped her mouth shut.

'There is no time for that! He's coming, the Elven King! I can hear him!' Bernard blurted out.

'Is that good or bad?' Harlette asked casually. Bernard's eyes almost sprung out from their orbits upon wondering: who was the sloshed one?

'Under the bed! quick!'

They slipped under the bed, and before Harlette could say anything, Bernard had her face squashed in between her delicate paws, her eyes round and almost menacing as she warned: 'now, do not make a sound. Elves have a very, very sharp ear. Even the sound of your breathing will rouse his alarm! Do not do or say anything! Do not even dare to think, since you seem to think too loud now!'

The door opened and in came Thranduil, smirking to himself.

**TATATATATATA! *drum roll* what will happen next…I wonder…got to write more now… 8-)**


	11. Chapter 11 - The Elven King's Bedroom

**Ooo yeah….here's the next chapter! ;) hope you enjoy! **

**Chapter 11**

**The Elven King's Bedroom**

Thranduil closed the door behind him.

Harlette and Bernard lay beneath the bed, ever so quiet, barely drawing breath.

Their terrified eyes followed his soundless steps which guided him towards the grand window.

They heard him fiddling inside his wardrobe, then with papers or something of the sort.

Their expressions morphed from terrified to mortified, when surveying him walking back next to the door, all the while removing his crown, his robes...until he was but in his boots and breeches, with his chest bare (and what a chest!), and his hair cascading behind his back. Harlette's mouth popped open and Bernard panicked even further when the girl began to dribble on the floor...

Fortunately, the king did not proceed to remove his breeches…much to Harlette's great disappointment (which was manifested through a deep frown from her part) which further shocked Bernard.

Stretching, Thranduil eyed his bed and his lips pushed up, almost into a smile. He took a step back and, very unexpectedly, ran, jumping on the bed which bounced. The duo beneath the springing furniture stopped a startled scream from breaking past their silent lips.

Time crawled and naught was heard.

The two remained there, sweating profusely from terror, under the heedless Elven king.

More minutes passed. Thranduil did not seem to stir anymore...and suddenly, they heard snores. Loud snores. Harlette and Bernard looked at each other skeptically...well, if he was sound asleep, that had been fast...

They waited a little longer, and the snores only got louder and… almost vulgar! Bernard was very shocked at that, and Harlette…well, she was also surprised but did not find him the least bit unattractive, for indeed, when they slipped out from under the bed, she did not follow Bernard to the door. On the contrary, she bended over his sleeping frame; he lay on his stomach, his back to her, snoring like a cave troll.

Harlette could not impede her body from moving. 'What am I doing?' she whispered to herself as she watched her hand go to his hair, gently stroking it. She smiled; god! How she had wanted to do that.

'What are you doing?! Are you mad!?' Bernard's whispering voice rasped. Harlette jerked and turned around to meet Bernard at the door. 'What is wrong with you?' the cat asked heatedly, flabbergasted beyond compare. 'Wait…did they give you anything…?' she then questioned suspiciously.

'I don't know! Maybe somebody put something in my drink! My body is moving by itself! I'm doing and saying things I do not want to openly do or say! What is happening to me? I want to go home! I'm so lost! O Bernard, please help me!' she implored, her eyes giving in to tears.

'Perhaps I can be of some assistance,' a voice startled both of them, and they whirled around, their eyes round, their mouth in an O shape of shock.

There he was, King Thranduil, at the other end of the room, leaning against a wall, a slow smile creeping upon his lips.

'Tsk, now, now, did you really believe me to snore so loudly? My, o my, what fools have I stumbled upon...?'

**Hummmmmm… Mmmmmmm ;)**


	12. Chapter 12 - Strike the Deal

**Yo! yo! yo! I'm back! I hope you guys are enjoying the work! Thanks for the reviews! **

The Truth is out; strike **the Deal **

**Chapter 12**

Harlette stuttered an inaudible phrase, burped, and blushed garnet at her crude reaction.

'What a way to express yourself; I would expect no better answer from the lady you try to be,' Thranduil retorted mockingly, his glimmering eyes condescending.

'Run!' Bernard bellowed. Before they could even move, an arrow dug itself to the wall, an inch away from Harlette's head. She jerked back, her heart slamming inside her chest, her eyes fluttering from astonishment. She turned to meet Thranduil's sternly amused expression, a long bow between his strong hands.

She laughed at his face, 'Ha! Ha! You have a really bad aim!'

Both prisoners darted out the room. Thranduil lingered behind, raising a brow at that stupid and unexpected remark.

'He didn't try to kill you, you fool!' Bernard's growl boomed throughout the corridors.

They ran as fast at their legs could carry them.

They descended the great stone steps and rushed across the great hall. The gigantesque doors had been left agape, sun light pouring through the opening.

Reaching the outside, they hastily crossed the large bridge.

Harlette marveled at two beasts, left unattended, at the other end of that bridge. 'Look Bernard! We've got mounts waiting for us!' she let out, gliding towards the horse and the mule.

Bernard froze, and she gawped as her master fussed over the animals. 'Wait! Do you really think this is normal? Both beasts here, waiting for us?' she spoke quickly, and rolled her eyes as Harlette went towards the large mare, and tripped and hit the ground, cursing as she did.

Higher above their frames, unseen and sitting casually upon trees, were the Elven king and some of his guards, watching with pleasant amusement the two prisoners' feeble attempt of escape. 'Which mount will they choose?' Galion asked, a piece of lembas-bread in hand. 'The horse, most naturally!' was the confident reply. Thranduil smirked at that idea, 'We might be surprised…'

Harlette, glaring at the passive horse, tried to hook her foot in one of the stirrups. However, she slipped and fell to the ground, dragging the saddle down with her. Bernard fumed. 'We should go on foot! They will be expecting we take the horse!'

Harlette stopped trying to attack the steed anew with her weight. She had an idea. 'But they won't be expecting us to take the _other_ one now, would they!?'

'What_'

Before the cat could counter that argument, she was violently hoisted up and squeezed under Harlette's arm as this one flung a leg over the mule's round back.

The mount did not move. 'Come on! Let's ride!' Harlette shouted. The mount still did not move. Bernard yawned, her mind already yielding to obvious facts: 'I'm sure it's expected. They know. And we are probably being watched…why bother with escape…'

'Stop being so negative Barney!' Harlette reprimanded and looked down at her mount. 'Come on! Ride, fly…How does this thing work?!'

'Shall I propose my services again?' a disembodied voice sprang from behind them.

The two fugitives slowly turned around to meet the Elven King-dressed anew in his robes and crown- and his guards, guards who tried in vain to stifle their laughter.

'Services? How much do you charge?' Harlette asked eyeing him lecherously. 'I've got the money, if you've got the time,' she waggled her brows suggestively just to slap her mouth shut, her eyes wide with shame.

The king took three long strides and was in front of the unmoving donkey. A hand placed on the passive mammal's forehead, he watched the tenacious woman who persisted to slap its rear, begging it to move.

'My patience is eternal,' warned the Elven king.

'So is mine!'

Suddenly, Harlette was lifted up from where she sat by Thranduil himself. 'Put me down!' she ordained. He did so, with little gentleness.

She puffed and brushed the dirt from her outfit.

Abruptly, he frowned and his eyes were frosted with anger. In one swift move he had pulled the red ribbon holding Harlette's braid together.

Before she could even think of reacting, his face had drawn so close to hers, she could see the blackened ire stirring within his pupils. She was very frightened.

'Do not ever lay your hands on this. Do not even look at it.'

With her shoulder-lengh hair now cascading in front of her remorseful face, Harlette stepped back, coughing as she did. 'I stole your clothes as well...I didn't know they were yours. I was cold, and I thought my escape would be successful.'

No one spoke.

Bernard raised her brows. Harlette blushed, she had not meant to admit her fault, but the truth had broken through her vow of silence.

'Tell me everything,' he invited. Before Harlette could process the information, her lips moved by themselves:

'I was alone for Valentine's day, so I decided to buy myself some sexy underwear,' she started and whirled around, her hands lifting her tunic, flaunting the lacy (and decomposing) bra. Her expression, however, was a desperate one, for she moved without her consent; everything happened so fast; a flow of actions she could not contain. Her mouth kept on, moving on its own: 'I was in my bedroom, admiring myself – because, mind you, I am greatly desired by men even though I never had a real date.'

'I have no doubt about that,' Thranduil added curtly, and Harlette glared daggers at him. 'Stop teasing me with your words; BE A MAN and do it with your hands!' and before she knew it, she had slapped her palms to her breasts, massaging them avidly. 'WHAT AM I DOING?!' she yelled, her eyes wide with terror.

Thranduil's lips pushed up into a vibrant leer. Bernard's mouth dropped open. 'You…you have given her a truth serum!' the cat accused, shoving herself between Thranduil and his victim.

Thranduil smirked. 'Carry on. Tell me everything,'

And Harlette did:

'The mirror started to glow. I put my hand through it because I thought it was cool. I fell and fell through darkness and I landed in your ugly ass thing you so proudly call Realm. I got chased after by your spiders and I was lost, and I was cold and naked and I ran and ran, till you and your guards saved me_'

'I almost regret having done so. If only I had known,'

'The mighty king spoke in his usual low, dark and luring voice…' Harlette narrated, like the true romantic novelist that she was. She slapped both hands upon her mouth, yet again. Now THIS was too much!

'I know not how you managed to give me this so-called Serum of Truth, but I command you to stop its effects at once! I am not your puppet! King or no king, you have no right to penetrate my core so deeply!' Harlette shouted with vehemence. Thranduil raised a brow at her curious choice of words.

'You command me?' he let out, remaining calm, immobile, straight and proud.

'Don't be so condescending. If it weren't for your shiny army, your magical powers, your knowledge of the terrain …'

…TWO HOURS LATER…

'…, your height, strength, and this serum of truth, you would have absolutely NO chances of beating me. Indeed, I believe am the superior one here, since I have engaged into this battle of wits completely unprepared and literally exposed. Ain't that just right, Bernard?' she finished proudly. The mentioned one chose to remain silent.

Harlette hemmed. 'So indeed, I command you, to stop..to ...to stop, stop...' she stammered helplessly as she watched him. 'Stop being so damn attractive!' she finished, just to fling her arms in the air with a gush of outrage.

'I could grant you your freedom back.' he proposed at last. Harlette beamed.

'But would you, feeble young mortal, be able to survive within my woods? It would be in your best interest to remain here a while longer, to rest -for you are unwell- and maybe you might recover the memories-as well as the manners- which you seem to have lost.'

Harlette coughed profusely, and her voice rasped. 'I'm not unwell and I need no rest; I will be perfectly fine in the forest as I will hunt for food_'

'Hunt for food? You amuse me.'

'I can hunt, I'm sure!'

With condensation marking his every feature, Thranduil studied her up and down, arms crossed over his chest. 'I will strike a deal with you,' he began. 'You shall be taken to the forest. You will catch your meal. If you manage, you will have proven the existence of your ability to survive within these woods, and I will let you go. If you come to fail this test, you will remain here a while longer, till you recover your strength and memory.'

'Why would you be doing us any favors?' the cat asked suspiciously.

'I do not recall ever mentioning you in this deal, Bernard. But I suppose friendship tends to bring fates together. So the deal concerns you as well.'

Bernard nodded, appreciating very little the idea of hunting.

'You clearly have no business with the spiders, but I had greater suspicion than faith in your words. I maltreated you, even though you had spoken truly. Allowing both of you to rest for a couple of days is the least I can do. And you, Bernard, are wisest, and I would feel guilty if you would come to perish in your journey due to Harlette's foolishness. Unfortunately, your destiny seems entwined with hers.'

Harlette opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out; she was outraged.

Bernard shrugged and sat, relief washing over her furry body; o yes! The king was wise.

'If I may, I wouldn't mind staying here a while longer, at least till our health allows us to travel. But I must follow my master's decision,' Bernard concluded. Thranduil nodded understandingly. Harlette watched Bernard, the cat and then Thranduil, the Elven king.

'Indeed! She goes where I go!' she exclaimed, nodding profusely. 'And we will go, without needing to pass your ridiculous test! Anyway, hunting?! What are you expecting? I can't just hunt «like this»!'

Harlette's outburst earned her inquisitive stares. 'I mean: I can't hunt «like this», on demand, with all of you watching me and expecting me to catch something! I need a boost of adrenaline and luck! It might take days before I catch something!'

Laugher shot from all around her. Even Bernard laughed. Thranduil remained serious.

'Either, you accept the challenge: you win, you may go. You lose, you stay till your health is recovered. Or, you refuse the challenge: follow your will and take your leave...but I would wish for my clothes in return, the ones you have so ruthlessly stolen.' he proffered a hand towards her, expectantly.

The guards around her whistled suggestively.

Harlette glared at him and backed away. 'Fine. I accept the challenge, but after I eat something.'

Sputtered laughter from every corner bullied her will to remain proud.

'Indeed, you must be hungry...'

Harlette nodded, for she was ravenous.

'All the more reason for your hunting to be effective. Otherwise, I'm afraid you'll starve.'

**OOOoooooo yeah….Thranduil has spoken! What will happen now…. Will Harlette manage? ;) **


	13. Chapter 13 - HOT HUNT and Private lesson

**Hello! Hope you guys had a fine lookin' day! :D **

** Okay! Here goes! ENJOY! **

**Chapter 13**

**THE HUNT**

The idea of having to hunt down her food like a ravenous savage displeased the romantic novelist, held captive by the Elven king.

Thranduil had annulled the hunt of this afternoon –much to the disappointment of his men- when manifesting his wish to be left on his own with Harlette.

Bernard had been given her own lodgings, and was conducted in the kitchens where food was in plenty. The cat, unworried about her master's fate, quickly gave in to slumber, her snoring head drowning in the bowl of milk.

Harlette's eyelids were heavy from lack of sleep. Her coughing was not scarce, and the ache thumping in her chest with every breath only seemed to worsen. Still, her determination to keep a proud countenance banished her desire to fall flat on her face and die.

Twigs cracking beneath her every step, Harlette treaded ambitiously in front of Thranduil who followed quietly behind, his long robes trailing after him, a bow in hand and a quiver of arrows strapped to his back. They had been walking for an hour within the dense forest where the afternoon sun pierced through the greenness, bathing the atmosphere in a dark, golden glow.

Harlette coughed vehemently and, with her vision blurring, she slumped on a large rock. Passing a hand under her nose, she shivered and she sniffed, and her eyes were teary.

Her look found him standing farther off, watching her intently.

'You are unwell, Harlette.'

'So, where is the hunt taking place?' she asked, bypassing his statement.

Thranduil sputtered a short chuckle. 'We have been on the terrain for about an hour, Harlette.'

Her lashes fluttered like the wings of a demented butterfly upon realizing the stupidity of her question. 'Oh, I knew it!' she lied. 'Well, I was just searching for the appropriate spot. A spot with less trees, you know, with more open space.'

A couple of crows perched themselves upon one of the many pines towering over the elf and the human girl.

Harlette harrumphed. 'So I shall start hunting now,' she concluded, smoothing her tunic with her fingers.

'I can barely contain my excitement,' the king drawled.

She looked to the right and then, to the left, her eyes narrowing as she scanned her surroundings, like a spy on a mission. Thranduil watched her as she skipped behind a large trunk, crouched and inspected the endless horizon of roots and leaves before her.

'Here will is perfect,' she declared.

'O really?' was the elf's sarcastic retort.

'Do you have some sort of weapon I could borrow?'

Thranduil who had remained immobile heaved a sigh of exasperation. She was so young, a baby really, and immature, it stunned him how she had managed to escape the spiders' stinging appetite.

He handed her the long, strong bow. Harlette emitted a gush of joy when admiring the beautiful object between her palms. A smile crept upon his lips when she accepted the arrow he gave her; she looked like a child receiving her first toy. It was quite a charming sight to behold.

Nocking the arrow, Harlette took a stance she deemed legitimate, however, with her back bended, and her chest and bum out, this stance was utterly twisted and silly.

Thranduil raised an unconvinced brow at her position. 'This is how you are planning to catch your kill?'

Before she could address his question, she had growled. With the arrow nocked, Harlette, with cheeks bloating and lips puffing, tried to bend the bowstring but failed; it did not even quaver. 'It's broken!'

Thranduil calmly made his way towards her. 'It is not broken. You are leaning backwards, and will never be able to hit anything.'

Harlette huffed at him. 'It's not my fault! Your bow is broken! I can't even pull on the damn thing!'

'The placement of your feet, it's astounding how it's wrong. Uncross them.' He rebuked, almost rolling his eyes at her childish attitude. 'We will start with an Even Stance.' He offered, and before she could invite him to elaborate further, he came to stand right next to her.

Slowly his powerful hands reached for her hips, and gently but firmly, adjusted her posture. 'Your weight should be evenly distributed among both feet,' he described. A brief shriek suddenly escaped her lips when his knee slid between her legs, spreading them apart. Thranduil smirked at her reaction and continued. 'Heels and toes should be aligned. This will give you further equilibrium.'

She followed his word, nodding profusely, blood shooting to her cheeks, her heart racing. O, how she enjoyed this situation.

'Now, we will simply aim for that pine over there, without releasing the arrow,' he explained, motioning to the conifer further off. Harlette, with her lips pursed in a thin line, nodded. In one brutal and determined movement, she lifted the bow maladroitly.

Chuckling at her tactless movements, Thranduil placed a hand upon her shoulder, and the other one settled higher at her side. Delicious shivers coursed through her spine when feeling his hold tighten over her body.

'Do not lean back. And twisting your body so clumsily will not help you reach the target.'

'Oh! Will you_' Harlette's words died and her eyes rounded, and she could not repress her panicked, yet ardently pleased, titter when his strong arms came around her.

His left hand enveloped hers upon the bow rest, while his right one climbed atop her fingers to hold the nocking point.

Despite Harlette adopting the correct stance and holding the bow, it was Thranduil who now controlled its strength, for he pulled on the bowstring, slowly and with such ease.

'When drawing, do not solely rely on the strength of your arms; use the strength in your back as well,' he explained, his body hard and hot against hers. Harlette became stiff, fighting the urge to lay her head against his chest.

'Your whole body must be in alarm, but nonetheless relaxed. And as you draw your arrow,' he whispered in her ear, pulling anew on the bow string, with her nestled in his arms. 'Draw in a breath.'

He waited for her to follow his lead, and she did. She inhaled.

'And when you let go, breath out.'

Harlette exhaled.

'It is about harmony, Harlette.' He added.

They practice the movement a couple of times until they remained like this, with the sharp arrow drawn. And with her lodged so comfortably in his embrace, it seemed as if her body had been made for his.

Was he aware of the effect he was having on her untried heart? Most definitely, she thought. Was he playing with her sentiments?

She trembled and budged within his hold.

'Okay,' she quipped. 'Now move away to see if I manage to hold this bow in place and strike that tree!'

Thranduil did move, but he lifted the bow above and behind her frame so that she was forced to release it.

She shot his a defiant glare.

'Your strength is not sufficient for such bow. If I were to suddenly yield it to your hands, you would not be able to control its strength upon the string's snap. The string would strike against your body, injuring you severely.'

Disappointment crossed her features.

'I will give you an adequate bow as soon as we return,' he let out, grinning almost boyishly.

She grimaced at this canny statement. She wagged a finger at him. 'So all this practice was an utter waste of time! You did that on purpose, to waste my time in hopes that I would tire and be ineffective in the hunt! No matter,' she let out. 'I will catch the beast with my bare hands!'

'I doubt you will, with no strength…' he replied, eyeing her with phony innocence.

Harlette, could not help but notice that the king seemed genuinely amused by her, something he hadn't been-or at least had not shown openly- upon their first encounter. Now he was almost…entertained.

'I will take you back to the palace and you will rest.'

'How dare you claim me weak!' she blurted and, crouching down she collected a stone from the ground. 'I will strike the first living thing I see with this!'

'I wouldn't venture in that direction, if I were you. You would most definitely miss the target and the beast would most likely attack, and defeat, you.'

Harlette huffed and tossed the stone she had picked up hard behind her.

She yelped when sharp hooting assailed her ears. A wild boar sprang from the bushes where the rock had landed, its eyes red with anger.

It darted towards her.

Harlette dashed between the trees, frantically screaming the king's name as she did. He had vanished from sight.

Harlette halted when finding herself at crossroads, for the forest offered too many possibilities; all these possibilities led nowhere civilized.

She was roused from her thoughts when the violent beast's cries rapidly reached her ears.

Harlette was pulled up by the scruff of the neck.

The animal kept on running, losing itself in darkness.

Harlette who had shut her eyes, opened them and realized she now sat on a thick branch, her feet dangling beneath her. The king was at her side, gazing at her and shaking his head slowly in a reprimanding manner.

'Thank...thank...thank you...I_'

Like a cat, he dropped to the ground. He looked up at Harlette, his lips curving into a smile. He said nothing. He waited.

'Well, aren't you going to help me down?'

'I helped you up. If you were in the forest unaccompanied, with only a modest cat to defend you, how would you survive? I suppose you failed the test, completely.'

'I did not! The test was about hunting, not about tree climbing and pig-fleeing! How dare you say otherwise!' Harlette defended in a fit of rage.

Thranduil crossed his arms over his chest. 'Please, Harlette. Look at you; you are growing paler; you are sick. You lost your blood-thirsty battle with the terrifying boar, and you will never catch anything. Alas! You can't even get down from this tree.'

Harlette stuck her tongue out, insulting him with mute words. Tharnduil shook his head. What a child she was! So infuriating!

'Suit yourself. I fail to understand why I even play this ridiculous game with you, Harlette. You are a spoilt brat and an utter waste of my time, ' Thranduil spoke at last, and turned his back to her.

Ignoring his uncharitable remark and placing a hand on the strong trunk, a wincing Harlette stood up upon the branch, her legs wobbly as she tried to maintain equilibrium.

'You look like a clumsy orc, Harlette,' Thranduil commented over his shoulder.

'Keep your comments to yourself, your majesty. And whatever an orc is, I don't care! Watch me as I descend gracefully...'

Harlette suddenly lost balance and rocked forward. Her outstretched arms however found another branch, and she remained so, bending over, trying to push herself back up.

Thranduil paced about as he watched her curiously. He smiled. His eyes admiring the beautiful lines of her body that could be discerned through the large tunic, lingered on her small and round derriere.

The elf shook his head, chasing away inappropriate thoughts. How could he suddenly have a penchant for this uncouth human! He was wise and old, and had fought many a war. He was a very much loved and very much feared king, and he had a son, and he knew about things of beauty, so Harlette could have been the fairest woman in the world, she was nothing but a lost and vulgar mortal child with a tongue sharper than a knife. Yet, despite her very young years, her over-grown confidence, her unaffectedness, her cheerfulness and her deportment unbridled by any type of societal constraint excited his affection.

Thranduil's thoughts were soon dissipated by a cracking noise, followed by a snapping one which was later accompanied by a scream, which was immediately muffled by the sound of hitting the ground.

Harlette, face in the dirt, cursed and raised her shameful stare to meet Thranduil's boots and later, his slightly concerned, and greatly mocking, expression.

'Tsk, tsk…nose to the ground…tracking down your prey, I presume?' he spoke, his lips breaking into a full smile, a dazzling smile.

Harlette shot to her feet. On her tiptoes, and in on swift movement, she ripped the crown of berries from his head and slapped it to her mouth, her teeth masticating the branches avidly. 'And who said I should be carnivorous? I could perfectly well live on branches and berries!'

Thranduil's eyes blinked and his mouth popped open, and he laughed. A laugh that was so hearty and so friendly to the ear that Harlette's knees gave way.

Her will to remain proud melted; and that will was the only thing keeping her on both feet.

Her eyes fluttering shut, she fell forward.

She never hit the ground.

His laugh subsided as he watched the unconscious girl in his arms.


	14. Chapter 14 - Christine

**Hello! hello! Hope you are doing great! winter's here but thank god we have some good ****fan to warm our days...**

**kk, here goes! **

**Hope you guys are enjoying the read... **

**Chapter 14**

**Christine**

**Back to the 21th century. **

Christine, a pack of newly purchased cookies in hand, and a vibrant smile on her face, made her way across the street and reached her home.

She glided to the kitchen, and fixing herself some tea, she went up the carpeted stairs.

She stopped in her tracks.

Bringing the warm mug to her red lips, she drank passively, her eyes lingering upon several family portraits pegged to the wall; Christine and Harlette, both eleven years old, in the arms of their foster parents.

'Oh…Harlette…!' Christine suddenly called out, her long, red and glittering lashes fluttering.

Making her way through the corridor, she finally opened her sister's bedroom door.

She let herself in.

'Where are you, Harlette?' she continued, her tone mocking, as she slumped on her sibling's bed, stretching at leisure. She cursed when the hot tea splashed over her. Quickly, she placed the mug on a nearby desk, and raising her leg up, she ran her red finger nails along her shiny black boot, inspecting it for possible stains.

'Harlette...?' she pronounced casually, yet again. Christine pouted childishly upon receiving no answer from the summoned one.

She bounced off the mattress, her red skirts swaying against her body, and went towards a desk laden with stacks of papers and pens, and a dictionary.

'You mind if I nose around?' she moaned absently, her hands pushing through the written papers. 'Working on a new story, I see,' she noted. 'Love With A Stableboy,' she read. 'What a gripping title,' she added, her voice dripping with amused sarcasm.

Christine began to read:

'It was hot and sweaty in the stables. They made love with such passion, Angelique de Beauvarnais though she would die…'

Christine never understood Harlette's fondness for writing such tales.

Finally, she strolled towards the mirror, her red lips smiling at her reflection.

'How are you enjoying Middle Earth, dear sister?' she sniggered, looping a lock of brown hair behind her ear.

**hehehehe...you were not expecting that, now were you? ;) (well, I hope...LOL) **


	15. Chapter 15 - Gravely ill

**Here is chapter 15! ENJOYYY! **

**huggggssss!**

**Chapter 15**

**Gravely ill **

In one of the many rooms of the grand palace of Mirkwood, slept a human girl. A woman to the race of men, and a child to the elves.

Healers were sent to Harlette's bed chamber, and they tended to her health with plants and healing spells. Nothing worked;

For five days, a feverish Harlette had remained asleep, and never awakened. For five days, a fretting Bernard had lingered by Harlette's side, her worried head upon the girl's chest.

King Thranduil had absented himself for these five days, tending to pressing matters at the borders of Mirkwood, where orcs and spiders manifested their presence.

Harlette's breathing was slow, and she would cough violently in her slumber. Her face was deadly pale, and she had lost a lot of weight.

The day came to die, giving in to night. Harlette still slept and, sitting upon her chest, Bernard wept.

Outside, the wind blew upon leaves which shivered, not from cold, but from fear, every time hissing sounds came to appear, sniggering in the darkness. Through the night, they sang, the birds and the elves alike, in vain trying to appease the growing foreboding growing within this realm.

The night came to pass, allowing for morning to rise at last.

Today, safe for the maid, Earwin and the cat, Bernard, no healers had been in Harlette's chambers.

Bernard's large eyes teared. The healers most surely considered the girl's case done for.

A maid quietly entered the room, her yellow hair cascading behind her back. Bernard whirled around, her expression hopeful and helpless upon recognizing Earwin.

'A new serum is being made. We must stay patient,' the elf informed softly.

The cat frowned. 'They can do nothing at this rate. Your healers know how to heal wounds, severe wounds, but since elves never get sick, your healing abilities for human disease is limited. Harlette is human, and she most probably has pnenmonia! She will die if we find no stronger antidote. Plants and healing spells are of no use anymore; what we need is powerful magic!'

Earwin drew closer to Bernard and placed a slender hand on the latter's back.

'Take me to your king, Earwin. I heard he is to return today.'

'The king?' she let out. 'I fear that is impossible. I doubt he will bother with...'

'Of course he will. If only he had been kept informed of her health. He has been out all this while, and has no idea how she fares. He most definitely believes her to be cured! I am sure, if his majesty knew the truth, he would tend to her health immediately!'

Earwin dropped her gaze to her palms. 'It was not my intention to sound disparaging, Bernard. Little did I imagine Harlette's health to be important to the king...'

Bernard puffed at her. 'You might deem a human's life trivial, but Thranduil is wise, he believes otherwise. That's why he is king.'

Earwin said naught.

At that moment, Harlette coughed, loud, very loud. Her opened mouth attempted to draw breath, but seemed to fail. Her chest heaved, and through her closed eyes, tears emerged and rolled down her red, damp cheeks.

'We are out of time, Earwin. If she comes to die, I will never forgive myself for having been complacent, and you will never forgive yourself for having been so ignorant!'

**ooooOOO, Bernard has spoken...sturdy ball of fur! ;) Now, what will Thranduil do? ... 8-D **


	16. Chapter 16 - To Summon The King

**Yo! yo! Here's chapter 16! :) I really hope you are enjoying! :) **

**Chapter 16**

**To Summon The King**

Upon delicate white paws, a white cat rushed down the many steps of the palace.

The feline reached the grand doors accessing to the throne room. Bernard knew Thranduil would be there; she could smell him. He had just arrived from the borders.

She halted before the closed entrance. 'King Thranduil!' she let out, her tone desperate as she clawed the obstacle towering high between her and the summoned one.

The grand doors moved inwards. Bernard stepped back, and as soon as there was space enough for her body, she scurried inside.

The king in armor, stood at he center of the room, a long, bloodied sword in his powerful hand, talking to three of his men, their armor filthy with blood and earth.

As Bernard glided towards them, she heard what they spoke of: there was orc presence along the borders of Mirkwood, and their killing was a great medication to strained nerves. An elf seemed to have been mildly injured in the fight, and they talked about his wound taking no time to heal. The last phrase Bernard's sharp ears caught was, 'something evil is afoot...' and the sound died as the four elves gazed down upon the pristine white beast.

'Bernard,' Thranduil acknowledged the visitor, a smile to his lips.

Bernard bowed. 'My king, Harlette is very ill. She has not eaten, nor has she had anything to drink. The healers are unable to battle the virus. She has been asleep for long, too long, and today is the sixth day that goes by without her awakening.'

The king looked down at the cat, his smile slowly fading.

There was a silence.

'She is human, my lord, and as trivial her current condition might sound to the immortal elves, this very same condition will cause her death in no time if nothing is done. I know your majesty is not powerless before this situation.'

He followed Bernard out of the great hall, under the surprised-but nonetheless relieved- gaze of Earwin.


	17. Chapter 17- Silence In Mirkwood

**Chapter 17**

**Silence in Mirkwood**

Thranduil entered the room. The door closed behind him. Bernard remained outside and waited, praying.

Her dark lashes upon her porcelaine cheeks, and her auburn hair framing her paling visage, Harlette soundly slep, her lungs straining with the intake of every breath.

Thranduil watched her intently, and he sat on the bed by her side. He slowly smiled at her.

Thranduil placed a hand over her damp forehead.

His crytaline eyes closed, and his grave and calm voice began to sing. An Elven song, with words blessed with peace, words blessed with great beauty.

All went silent within Mirkwood that day.


	18. Chapter 18 - Sheliad

**I still hope you are enjoying your read! :-D **

**Chapter 18**

**Sheliad**

The sun rose high in the sky, with the promise that morning would be glad.

Her hair flying loose, a pale pink dress swinging around her legs, Harlette skipped through the dense forest.

The path she followed began to fade into a featureless distance made of white fog.

She took a draught of air as she strayed into the white mist stirring about her, until it began to part and roll up above her frame.

Suddenly, the air grew less, and it became hot. Her hair became damp and bedewed with drops, till it hang lank along her visage.

Abruptly, she heard Bernard's voice, and it shouted wildly.

Calling for her cat, Harlette ran, the white fog parting before her step. Fog shifted at her feet, and it rolled up timidly about the many trees around her. 'Bernard!' she yelled, her chest heaving, her breath clouded for the air suddenly became chill.

She grew disquiet.

'Bernard?' she cried out, her voice echoing and fading into silence.

From somewhere, lost within mist and between trees, branches snapped.

Harlette yelped, her eyes searching for the author of the sound.

She backed away and shrieked when gazing at an eight legged shadow emerging from the white curtain, and advancing towards her. As she reared, she tripped and fell. She scrambled back to her feet, and before she could bolt to any direction that would grant her with escape, the shadow spoke:

'Don't flee!' it let out miserably, its voice thin. Harlette, her damp hair dripping against her cheeks and along her neck, spun her gaze to the grey arachnid.

'What do you want?'

'I mean no harm,' it assured, bowing to her, the palps on its head moving from side to side, and touching each other, in a sign of peace.

Harlette's mood grew gentler. 'Who are you?'

'My name is Sheliad,' the grand spider spoke, bowing anew. Harlette looked at the darkness all around her, searching for potential threats. Still skeptical, she dared answer the greeting with a timid wave of her hand.

'I don't have much time. I came to warn you, Harlette.'

'You know my name?' she asked, daring a step closer to the chuckling creature.

'Of course I do. Everybody here knows you!'

Harlette smiled and she puffed her chest with pride.

'Yes! You are very famous among us. Your courage is legendary; how you saved a spider from death, and how you escaped the dark king's wrath!' it sing-songed, its long legs tapping the ground as if clapping.

Harlette tilted her head to the side in question. 'The dark king? Thranduil?'

The spider sprang backwards and bolted against a tree, its many eyes blinking in panic, and its fanged maw screeching. 'Don't speak his name aloud! I hate it! It frightens me!'

Harlette walked closer to the terrified animal and outstretched her hand in a friendly manner, inviting it to descend from the branch where it was now perched. Sheliad accepted the invite.

'He is dark. Dark indeed. A monster! Us spiders have done nothing to him! We hunt for food, and we are said to be assassins. How are we to survive if we cannot hunt? He kills us when we are merely trying to live!' it exclaimed, its tone plaintive. 'We live here, we have always lived here! And then the elves came to settle here; they destroyed our homes and keep on attacking us, with their arrows and their swords and their spells, wicked spells!'

'That is terrible!' Harlette spoke, her tone outraged. She could not help but pity the creature who wept through its speech.

'And you are in danger!' it warned. 'The king sees little importance in the lives of his people; he keeps them enclosed within this dark forest; he likes darkness. And us, he kills. And you, you are human; he will enslave you and beat you, till you do his will! You are in danger, and you must go. I could help you.'

Harlette's heart slammed in her chest, panic and doubt in her eyes. 'Why would you help me? Why do you care?'

The spider drew closer to her, a slender leg slowly crooking over her shoulder, till it touched it. Harlette stood immobile. 'Because you do not judge us, and you are pure, and you are kind. You saved one of us. You deserve life, and you deserve happiness.'

Harlette drew back. 'I can't believe the Elven king to be so cruel…'

'Humans have such short memories!' Sheliad claimed. 'Look at the way he treated you; he threw you in the dungeons, with no food, nothing!'

'How do you know this?' she asked, almost revolted.

'I'm a spider, and I have many friends, and I know my way through every nook. I crawl and I sneak, and I listen. I have my ways unknown to the elves,' Sheliad explained, barely above a whisper. 'With these ways, I came to know of the evilness of the Dark King, which is plain to see for he hardly ever smiles,' Sheliad deadpanned. 'Mark my words, young one, the king is dark. Elves are fell creatures with angel-masks. Whereas we, spiders, might look revolting, but once, we were lovely.'

It laughed at Harlette's enlarging eyes. 'Yes. We were not always unlovely. But the elves, when they settled here, they were jealous of us, of our loveliness and happiness. You see, they are cursed with life, forced to live and live, and never die.'

'They never die?'

'No they do not, and they are forced to roam like ghosts. Whereas we, we were blessed with beauty and happiness, and were given the same gift you were upon your birth, the gift of death. A liberation. So the jealous elves claimed there was not enough space in Mirkwood for both races, so they cursed us; trapping us in fell bodies, and forced us to dwell within shadows.'

'Why did you not defend yourself?' Harlette asked, her tone edging towards anger. How could the elves do such thing?

'They are stronger in magic, you see. We were and still are quite powerless, for we have no magical powers; we are simply alive, and now, we are cursed. Doomed to remain unlovely and feared for no particular reason till death.'

Harkening every pharse, Harlette pondered this theory. Somehow she still doubted it, and somehow, she believed it. What was she to do? Who was Thranduil beneath the mask? Was he as dark as this spider claimed him to be?

'You must be cold,' Sheliad surmised when watching the shivering girl. 'Here, have this. I made it myself. It will keep you warm, and it's very beautiful!' it exclaimed, and it backed away, its palps pointing downwards.

Harlette stooped down, plunging her hands in the foggy ground, rummaging through the dead leaves.

Her fingers kissed something wholly soft. She tugged on it, and she stood up, holding it in front of her. Her mouth hang in overawe at the beauty of the glimmering white dress made entirely of fine white threads.

It took no time for her to remove her damp pink dress, and slip into the beautiful new garment which fitted her like a second skin. Sheliad placed gold chains around her waist, rings upon her fingers and a circlet on her head.

Harlette beamed.

'You look so beautifull, Harlette.'

Harlette giggled and thanked the spider for these gifts.

'It is a shame the elves take no notice of your beauty. Their eyes are blinded by their own ego.'

Harlette's grin faded as she thought of Thranduil. Sheliad seemed to read her thoughts.

'O…' she let out with disgust. 'The dark king seems to get into your skin, I see…'

Harlette shook her head rapidly. 'No…of course not…he is simply very attractive. One cannot deny, elves have their charms. This is why it is so complicated for me to admit he could be_'

'I understand!' Sheliad interjected. 'Everyone thinks the same, for elves are so fair. But they are selfish and greedy. The dark king barely respects his race, but he has no compassion for the other races. A long, long time ago, when hearing of the riches dwelling in Erebor, A great dragon, Smaug the Magnificent, avid for gold and precious stones, rose in the skies. When he finally reached the Town of Dale and captured the Lonely Mountain, Thranduil complacently watched, un-answering the desperate calls for help. He stood there with his army, watching as the Town of Dale burned and Erebor was captured. The dragon was defeated though, an arrow to his breast. However, Thranduil claimed his share of the treasures of Erebor…' it sighed. 'He did not fight, he did not give, but he wished to take,' Sheliad unraveled, and she smirked at Harlette's desolated expression. 'But I shall not traumatize you any longer with this tale, for it is a long one, my dear, and time is running short. I must leave you now. Take what I said into consideration. If you wish to leave, come and find me. I will be waiting.'

Harlette nodded and smiled. Sheliad smiled back and bowed, and walked away. The spider disappeared within the fog.

Harlette stood there, pensive.

A cry of pain rang further off. It was Sheliad's.

Harlette, with dread in her heart, plunged into the nothingness. 'Sheliad!'

Slowly, the darkness gave way, and further off there she was, the writhing spider, bloodied on the ground, moaning with ache. Harlette rushed towards it and dropped to her knees by its side.

'My goodness! What happened!'

'Run, Harlette…' it whispered, its closing eyes crying. 'Things are not what they seem. Things you deem good, watch out for them for they might be quite the opposite.'

Harlette began to weep as the spider moaned, blood oozing from deep wounds, bite marks, in its abdomen.

Harlette whipped round when hearing a creaking sound. A small rabbit looked at her, its nose pink, its fur white, its ears large and alert. It skipped towards her, but stopped midway.

'You should listen to her. You should run away,' it growled wickedly.

Harlette's eyes rounded, and slowly she stood up. The small white animal drew nearer, and as it did, it grew, and fangs and claws grew upon its once delicate body. 'You should run!' it roared, hungry for blood and war.

It bounded to her.

Harlette ran through the woods, screaming as she did.


	19. Chapter 19 - An Absolute Nutter!

Hello! I hope you guys are enjoying your read! :-p

Let's carry on then…..

**Chapter 20**

**An Absolute Nutter**

The sun was setting in Mirkwood.

With her head resting on a soft pillow, and light blankets of white wool over her body, a sleeping Harlette lay in a large and comfortable bed, Bernard at her side.

This morning Thranduil had come, and his magic seemed to have worked, for her fever had subsided and her coughing was no longer existent.

Harlette suddenly stirred. Bernard woke up immediately.

Harlette screamed in her sleep, and she sprang from bed, her feet kicking, her arms flailing.

Bernard and the covers were tossed aside. Nevertheless, thanks to the cat's deftness and agility, she landed on her own four paws, her mind addled, her eyes spinning. She cried after Harlette who had bolted out of the room, and into the corridors of the palace.

In her jog, Harlette tripped and fell, landing face first on a carpeted floor.

She remained there, sprawled on the ground, slowly coming back to her senses. She opened her eyes. But doing this made no difference for all was pitch black. She fondled to get up, her trembling hands groping the walls. She cried. She spoke, calling for Bernard, but she heard no answer, and most alarmingly, she heard not her own voice.

There she was, blind, deaf and lost!

She walked and stumbled, her hands sliding along what felt to be like stark walls. The thought of Sheliad's half devoured body terrified her, and she sniveled.

Silence echoed all around her.

Two strong hands grasped her waist and pushed her foreword.

She screamed and tried to contest the sudden force, but the powerful hands did not relent, for they easily lifted her struggling self from the ground, their long fingers, gently yet firmly, digging in her skin which seemed to be covered only by a fabric finer than lace.

She could not move anymore, and her loud complaints would not change her pathetic situation.

She grew quiet, and simply allowed her fate to be decided by her unseen captor. Nevertheless, even though she fretted still, the body she was firmly held against was warm and strong, and smelled of an ever-green forest. This smell and this warmth reminded her of someone, however, this familiar feeling faded with her realization that danger was no longer present.

She waited for time to pass.

At last, she was gently placed upon the floor.

She stood there, unknowing.

Silence and time crawled by.

The room was chilly, and she shivered when suddenly aware of her scantily clad self. Her palms grazed the fine chemise which barely covered her form, for it left her shoulders bare, hardly hidding her intimacy between her slender legs.

When feeling a gaze caressing every curve of her body, a hot sensation suddenly overwhelmed her. And just like these strong hands which had held her, this gaze was wholly masculine.

She gasped when sensing this male presence suddenly right before her.

These same hands came under her chin and gently cupped her face, and even though she was heedless of this new company, she could not prevent a sigh of comfortable pleasure from escaping her lips.

The powerful fingers slid up along her nose, and then...they removed something from her eyes. Her vision instantly clarified.

Thranduil, a sleeping eye-patch in hand, stood right before her, his lips curling into a faint (but nonetheless expectant) smile, watching as redness streamed up from her chest, spreading irresistibly all over her panicked visage.

Slowly, Harlette's fingers came to her ears, and she removed the earplugs lodged there. Her hearing was restored as well.

She looked about her. She was in a fairly large bedroom, its enormous window inviting the eyes to lose themselves in the never-ending horizon of tree tops basking in the orangey-light of the late-afternoon sun.

She looked back at the expectant Elven King, whose lips were lost in a broadening grin.

His eyes studied the curves of her body, clearly visible through the transparent chemise; from the fullness of her breasts, to her small waist, to her most intimate part between her slender legs, barely concealed by the fine material.

'You always manage to underdress in my presence. Why is that?' Thranduil asked slyly, his focus drifting to the sleeping eye-patch dangling between his fingers.

She froze. The way his fiery eyes roamed over her so intimately made her stomach flip, staining her cheeks with redness.

She looked down at her scantily clad self.

'O yes...always in your presence,' she affirmed clumsily. 'Well, ermm… old habits die hard,' she offered, her arms slowly embracing her bust.

Thranduil cleared his throat expectantly. He waited. He had all the time in the world, for time meant nothing to him. From what Sheliad had told her, elves were immortal, and Harlette found herself wondering about Thranduil's age… If he was older than her late grandmother, he did not look it, and she would not believe it.

Harlette realized she had remained silent for quite a while. She had to think of something to say, and quick. 'Is there something I could do for you?' she quipped dumbly.

He tilted his head to the side questioningly. 'I suppose I should be the one asking that question, Harlette. Especially since I found you, on all fours, blinded by a sleeping eye patch, deaf by ear plugs, and screaming desperately to yourself. It was quite… unusual,' he specified. 'So,' he let out, with the devil in his intonation. 'Is there something_ I_ could do for you?'

'Erm...no,' she answered. 'I was looking for my bat,' she unraveled with a casual shrug. 'Cat,' she rectified.

Thranduil raised an elegant brow. 'What you tell me is not the naked truth, Harlette.'

Despite enjoying his playfulness, she ignored his statement, her hands pulling down on her modest garment. 'Well, it seems Bernard is nowhere to be found. I'm very worried…'

Thranduil laughed. Harlette quietened, mesmerized by the music which was his laugher; how could he be dark when his smile was such poesy and his laugher such euphony?

'I'm right behind you, you fool!' Bernard's voice suddenly growled. Harlette yelped and gazed down at the irritated and concerned feline at her feet. 'What madness got into you?! You ran off like a demented horse! And put something on! Always running around stark naked!'

Bernard readied to find her master some proper garments, but the latter collected her from the floor into a fierce embrace. 'O Bernard! I was lost!'

'Lost?' the cat echoed, squeezed within the hug.

'I was lost in the woods!' she claimed, allowing an earnest Bernard to stand by an amused Thranduil. Both watched the girl.

Silence.

'The woods?' Bernard said at last, disbelief weighting on her white brows.

'Yes! And suddenly, I realized I was lost…' her voice faded, and her eyes lost in nothingness as she described her adventure. 'Suddenly, there was fog, and it shifted about my feet as I coursed through the forest, and then there was a shadow. It was Sheliad. I was frightened at first when I saw it was a spider coming my way…'

Thranduil's expression darkened.

'A spider? Sheliad?' Bernard asked, frowning with confusion.

'Yes! Her name was Sheliad! She …' her tone faded as she realized anew she wore nothing substantial. 'She had made a dress for me…a beautiful dress made of fine white threads−'

'A spider web,' Thranduil elucidated his voice somber. Harlette took a step back at his sneering tone.

'But she was not evil! She tried to help me out of the woods!' she quipped defensively, a hand to her heart. Slowly, Bernard came closer to Harlette who was taking the conversation too much at heart. 'Harlette, you are aware that this is a dream, you were asl−'.

'But we were attacked! We were attacked by a…by a…mutant rabbit!'

Bernard and Thranduil looked at each other, stifling their urge to laugh. What nonsense this was.

'I swear! It devoured Sheliad and hopped after me! It had fangs and claws! I was lost and afraid! It all seemed so real!'

'This is most definitely a nightmare,' Thranduil concluded slowly. 'A nightmare trying to confuse your mind. The spider is the foul one who would have devoured you, not the rabbit. You were aslee−'

'She was not evil!' she cut in brutally. 'How can you say this when you have not even met her!' Harlette hissed, her face red as she stomped to the king.

His eyes frosted with ice.

'Harlette! Don't get carried away, this was a dream!' Bernard reminded quickly, fretting for the tensing atmosphere. 'You were asleep for six days!'

Harlette yelped upon hearing this last bit of information. 'Asleep for six days? How−'

'You defend these foul things again,' Thranduil interrupted her. Harlette spun to meet his deadly look.

'Because Sheliad did nothing wrong!' Harlette's voice rang.

'You you pronounce its foetid name with such ease and admiration,' Thranduil stated darkly.

'How can you judge a creature that did absolutely nothing to you? She simply lives in these woods with the others of her kin! You see them as murderers, but one has to eat to survive; lions kill other animal, yet we don't judge them to be foul things!'

Thranduil's hands shot to her shoulders. She was violently rammed against the wall. Her vision blurred but she quickly regained focus, and she gasped when his face came inches from hers. Warmth radiated from his touch, and her whole body began to boil. She winced from the sudden pain as the feel of fire violently shot through her veins. 'You are hurting me!' she let out, trying to budge, but he forced her harder against the wall, his body pressing against hers.

'How dare you question my judgment when you, little mortal, know nothing about this world.'

'I know enough to see that you discriminate these creatures that have every right to be there! It's not because they aren't fair of body that you should exterminate them!'

Thranduil threw his head back, and he laughed darkly.

Bernard stood petrified, stirring no limb. Harlette remained frozen to the spot. The burning in her body subsided, but the pressure against her shoulders caused by his strong fingers digging in her skin did not.

'Elves have dwelled here for ages, and when shadows fell within Mirkwood, the spiders came and destroyed what once was green. And you, human…' he let out disdainfully, 'come here to tell an old king what should be done? You, a clueless foreigner, who runs through the palaces' corridors wearing nothing but a sleeping-patch and earplugs, dare question facts?!'

Harlette's chest heaved and her heart raced. Tears threatened to break free and stream down her red cheeks.

'I don't know where I am,' she whispered. 'This might be my dream, and I am soon to rise. Or this might be my death, and I'm in paradise, for I'm surrounded by angels… these so-called elves.'

Thranduil hearkened.

'But perhaps this is a lighter version of hell. Yes hell! Since how can I be granted happiness if I'm constantly reminded of how outrageously imperfect I am? Like you say, a mere human, a little mortal,' she spoke, reminding him of the words he had so callously labeled her with. 'This dream I've just had, well, this foul creature, Sheliad, did not speak to me using these lowly words. On the contrary, she saw the good in my heart. And she was happy that I did not judge her, unlike you, elves!'

Thranduil slowly released her, his expression no longer angry, but cheerless and hurt. 'I should have let you die; maybe then, you would have been grateful, and the reality of things would have dawned upon you.'

At that moment, Harlette did not know he referred to him saving her life from illness, for she had no recollection of what had happened six days ago, since she had been slumbering all this time without her knowing; in her mind, the only heroic action he had done for her sake was saving her from the spider's sting. A tear rolled on her cheek. 'Yes. You should have let me die, that day in the woods. Anyway, you did not save me; you captured me because I stepped in your realm, and then you threw me in the dungeons! If I were to be on the verge of dying right now, you would do nothing. And I don't blame you, for you are just so godly, and I'm just a lowly mortal to your eyes.' Harlette sighed exasperatedly, and held her head high in ways befitting a diva. 'Now, if you don't mind, I would like to go back to my rooms: the dungeons, please,' she spat, her haughty gaze defying his.

Earwin, the maid, entered the bedroom with a silver plater of food, but stopped short at seeing Harlette against the wall, in vain trying to maintain an impeccable façade, and Thranduil right before her, hands forcing her to stay in place.

Silence.

Thranduil's lips curled into a sarcastic smile. He released her from his hold and drew back, hands clasped behind his back. 'If you had been awake, you would have discovered that your life no longer belongs within the dungeon's walls, and that you are now free. You may leave whenever you wish. In the meantime, Earwin will be at your service, answering to your every need. Have a good night.'

With long strides, Thranduil walked out of the room, past a confused Earwin and a mortified Bernard.

Harlette watched him go, tears in her questioning and confused eyes. 'If you had been awake?' her mind suddenly echoed. What did he mean by that?

She remained quiet, trying to recall the forgotten. Well, she remembered arguing with Thranduil, snatching away his crown, and feasting upon it like a bovine in despair (Harlette paled upon that recollection), but after that, her flow of memories was like a stream vanishing into darkness.

However, he did tell her she did not belong in the dungeons anymore; her conjecture was that, if she was in such a room, with a maid at her disposal, the Elven king most definitely did not hold a grudge on her for ravishing his belongings.

But what had happened? Had he knocked her out…by accident?

And somehow, by the look on Bernard's furry face, Harlette realized she had behaved like an absolute nutter.


	20. Chapter 20 - Explain Everything

**Hail to you all! ..o yeah..Harlette once again behaved like an arse...! **

**Now, here goes...the chapter where Harlette gets a lill explanation about everything...**

**Thank you so much for the comments! :D Makes my happy! :D **

**Chapter 21**

**Explanations**

'You fool! You troll!' Bernard yelled. 'Why did you speak to him so horribly!'

'Because he is cocky, and he judges me, treating me with such content when he doesn't even know me!'

'And who do you think you are to speak like such a princess? What makes you so special? Because what I just heard right now were the words of a dumb and arrogant baboon!'

'Ah!' she exclaimed, flinging her arms in the air. 'Thank you very much! Always nice to have some hate from a talking cat!'

Bernard's gaze softened, but her voice remained determined. 'What I mean is that, you misjudge him when claiming him to be so cold hearted, because if his heart was made of such ice, he would have let you die instead of saving your life!

'From these spiders? O, big deal! He threw me in dungeons after and_'

'No! Not the goddamned spiders! Forget the spiders!'

Pause.

'You were very ill, and in deep sleep for six days,' a calm and unfamiliar voice suddenly joined in the conversation.

Harlette's ears followed the sound, and she smiled at the beautiful golden-haired elf walking towards her, her step soundless, her long green dress swaying around her legs. 'My name is Earwin, miss Harlette. I have been appointed by our king to attend to your every need.'

'By the king…so I've heard...Nice to meet you…' Harlette's tone faded in shameful silence. 'So… I was asleep for six days, without waking up, you say?'

Bernard nodded, and so did the elf. Harlette shifted on her feet, grimacing and scratching her head pensively. 'So I must look really ugly right now: bags under my eyes, grey and dry skin, and greasy hair?'

Gently taking Harlette's hands in hers, Earwin guided the latter towards a large mirror.

When the human girl found her reflection, she stood dumbfounded before the glass.

Earwin smiled, and so did Bernard.

Thick and glossy, Harlette's hair had grown so long. Running her hands through it, she thought it an odd sight, for how could her shoulder-length locks now be kissing her lower-back after only a week? Her rosy cheeks and full red lips were ripe on her doll-like face, and her body had regained vigour. It was magic, right?

Finally, Harlette gathered her voice, which rasped, when daring to utter a sound. 'Asleep for six days…'

'You were so sick. I think you caught pneumonia; you had been worn out, in the cold with no food. I'm sure it came from there. Your body couldn't take it anymore,' Bernard explained.

'But now, by the look of things, I'm dazzlin',' she stated, her smile buoyant, her arms extended at her side, in ways befitting a god. 'But, tell me all in detail. So, I was sick and asleep, and basically dying…is there something else I missed?'

'You missed the most important bit of information…' Bernard groaned.

'Healers worked on you day and night. But still, you were fading fast,' Earwin continued. 'If it was not for Bernard's insistence in finding further help, you would have died,' the elf paused, and walking closer to the human girl, she knelt down. Harlette's eyes rounded, and before she could force Earwin back to her feet, this one had spoken: 'I should apologise to you, for despite it not having been in my intention, I had underestimated the price of your life in his majesty's eyes. With a mind immersed in ignorance, I allowed myself to be foolishly judgmental. I still have much to learn, and I hope to earn your forgiveness in due time.'

Harlette stood mute for a moment. She sighed.

'I'm a lost little human in a world belonging to godly creatures.' She shrugged, her expression desolated. 'It is of no wonder why you would think my life meaningless, especially with your mighty king labeling me as a little mortal girl... It might not be by mine, but by Elven standards, your judgment was not foolish, only too damn adequate.'

'No it was not. Do not judge us with such content,' Earwin retorted with vehemence. 'Elves have still much to learn, but we do not think human lives meaningless. And our king, he is proof of that,' she assured. 'You were fading fast,' she began, 'and our healers were not strong enough. Only a more powerful magic could save you.'

'So we called King Thranduil. And he saved your life,' Bernard finished. 'So don't judge him with such cruelty, for he saved you twice: from the spiders and from illness!' Earwin completed.

'Think of his reaction when seeing you worship spiders, and hearing you claim he would let you die the first chance he gets, when he saved your bottom this very morning. He even gave you a complete makeover!' Bernard finished, grinning at Earwin who nodded contently.

Harlette looked back at her fair reflection, her heart skipping a beat. Damn! She yelled in her mind, chiding herself for behaving like a complete nutter!

She wished to run after him, to apologise, but both Earwin and Bernard discouraged her plan of action. There would be plenty of time for that later. Moreover, the king was most probably in a stormy mood, and he had business elsewhere.

Night had fallen on Mirkwood at last.

It did not take long for Harlette to get washed. She slipped into clean sleeping attires, and despite her refusal to sleep any longer, she was nonetheless forced to do so, since resting was primordial for her complete recovery. Outside, there echoed songs and laughter; Earwin told Harlette that merry making was quite a habit among elves. Upon hearing that bit of information, from Harlette's lips, flooded more than one question. She inquired about this strange place called Mirkwood and its inhabitants. Earwin explained.

Elves were immortal beings with leaf-shaped ears. Birthed under starlight, and before the moon and sun came to exist, Elves had once been a great and mighty race. However, during the Third age of Middle Earth, the race of men took over the world, and therefore, the influence of Elves over the earth began to fade, and so did the elves themselves, for they sailed westward, to the undying Lands, a human version of paradise.

Some elves still wish to remain in Middle earth, but they are bound to sail west one day, for in due time, the call of the sea is stronger than their will to remain in a world which is no longer theirs.

Harlette wanted to know more, but there was so much-too much- to tell, so Earwin simply went on with telling a little about Mirkwood;

'We are in the east of Auduin, and these woods_'

'What's Auduin?' Harlette interjected. Earwin opened her mouth to speak, but Bernard stopped her. 'Don't bother Earwin, just carry on…'

'Well…' she started, laughing when Harlette glared at the earnest cat. 'The Woodland Realm was not always known as Mirkwood, but as Greenwood the Great. But the name changed when it fell under the shadow of Dol Guldur, of the Dark Lord Sauron, who was defeated eighteen years ago. Mirkwood was rid of all evil things and was called Eryn Lasgalen, the Wood of Greenleaves.' She sighed, dismay in her bright blue eyes. 'Nevertheless, the name Mirkwood never falls out of use, especially now, for it seems darkness has returned.'

This subject brought along that of the spiders, and Harlette was told they descended from the first great spider named Ungoliant, and her daughter, Shelob, who bred with other great spiders. The descendants of those foul creatures flooded Mirkwood when Sauron's shadow rose in the skies, and still now it seemed they could not be exterminated. Nevertheless, Earwin did not linger on this subject and ushered Harlette to bed, tucking her under the covers. It was time to sleep, again.

'Earwin, what's Thranduil's age?'

The maid laughed. 'Why don't you ask him yourself!'

Grinning broadly, Harlette nodded and closed her eyes.

Earwin and Bernard smiled at her sleeping frame.

Their smiles faded at the sight of bits of spider straying webs on the floor, and on the covers.

They looked at each other, their expression bespeaking their terrified confusion when recalling the dream and Sheliad's infamous gift; that dress made of white threads, of spider webs.

Something evil was afoot, and this something was growing, and beyond their control.


	21. Chapter 21- A Self Taught Witch

Thank you SO MUCH for the encouraging reviews/messages! I'm so happy you are enjoying! Makes me wanna challenge myself in finding cool stuff...! :P

okay...lezzz continue shall we? :P

**Chapter 21**

**A Self-Taught Witch**

'I cannot make love with you! You are a stableboy and I am a lady,' she told him dramatically, flinging her delicate hand in the air.

His hungry eyes roamed over her wet and naked body. Quickly, she reached for a nearby towel and covered herself with it.

'You don't have to be a lady tonight, Angelique, my flower in bloom,' the stableboy murmured huskily. This man, this dark angel with great abs, walked towards her, like a tiger would do when hunting its prey.

'Oh, Roger! We cannot! We have just met, and I am soon to marry the Duke! If we make love, I shall no longer be a maiden, and I will be unsuitable for marriage. And the duke…the duke will kill me!' Angelique let out in despair. She sat upon the bed, her legs opening despite her will to keep them closed, her towel sliding down, exposing her pink and hard nipple.

'Oh, mademoiselle de Beauvarnais...' he moaned, his voice husky and grave. 'I am in love with you, and I will fight till death to have your body rubbing against mine!'

She watched him with dramatic intensity. 'Do you mean it, Roger?!'

'Oh, yes, mademoiselle, with all my heart I do!'

The air around them became hot, and passion flared in their chests.

'Oh, Roger, I am so tired of living with regrets!' she gasped, a hand to her heart. 'I wish to live my life fully, with you!'

With her golden locks flying, she galloped to him, like a passionate mare would do before jumping over a fence, and as she did so, her towel fell to the ground.

Absolutely naked, Angelique dived for his mouth, and she tasted the sweetness of his lips, the spice of his tongue. It was almost violent when he shot pleasure through her with only this scorching kiss. He pushed her on the bed and climbed on top of her, covering her body with his own powerful one.

'No, Roger!' she blurted out suddenly, interrupting the passionate moment. 'We cannot make love! Because it

...

...

…

'WHAT! Cannot make love because...because what?' Christine flicked through the blank pages, her avid eyes round. 'It's over? Not finished?! Oh, couldn't they just bang already!' she let out, tossing away Harlette's unfinished Romantic novel, 'Love with a StableBoy.'

In Harlette's baby blue room, Christine, with her feet in shiny red boots propped on the desk, had been reading the manuscript for an hour already; she was addicted to it actually, for she wanted to know what would become of the relationship between Angelique and Roger. Yet, she was disappointed with the still unconsummated love, and the unfinished work.

The large mirror on the wall behind her started to glow. She glanced its way and heaved a sigh of exasperation.

Out of the glowing glass, a gloved hand came out, dragging with it the body of a tall man in his early fifties, dressed in long dark blue leather robes. Behind him, came a woman in her late thirties, also clad in blue leather robes, her hair as black as the night, a pointy hat atop her head. Both the newcomers looked at each other, and then at Christine who remained slumped on her chair, feet on the desk, her back to them.

'Oh, hey dudes,' the nonchalent girl greeted over her shoulder.

'Stop calling us dudes, we are your parents...' the father, Hendrick merely said.

'Well, tough tits!'

'Watch your language, that's not a way to behave! And take your shoes off your sister's desk,' the mother, Katarina, rebuked.

'Well, take off that stupid hat,' Christine groaned, without even looking at her mother whose mouth popped open.

'What is the ugly frock for, dad?'Christine questioned before her mother could reply.

'It's very fashionable and elegant!' Katarina shot back indignantly, hands on her waits, the overly large robes dancing around her form.

'Oh, please, my dear,' Henrick let out, sliding timid hands over his own attire. 'Just admit it…' he turned to Christine. 'We were trying to fit in a little more…'

Christine laughed, and Katarina crossed her arms over her chest.

'Do they wear leather robes in Center Earth?' Christine inquired, inspecting her red nails.

'It's Middle Earth!' Katarina corrected. 'And yes, some do. People like us do!'

'You're not from there. You're impostors!' Christine remined.

'Christine, honey, why are you so rude?' Hendrick inquired suddenly, sitting upon the desk, a hand to his heart, trying to have a father-daughter conversation. She watched him through her lashes.

'Well, I was having a fine moment till the unfortunate happened.'

Hendrick and Katarina waited, their expressions curious.

'You two showed up.'

Her parents rolled their eyes.

'Now, Christine, where is Harlette?' Henrick asked, a little firmer this time.

'Well she's not here.'

'She's not?' Katarina's voice rippled with slight panic.

'Duh...'

'Well, where is she?' Katarina inquired anew, a little pushy.

Christine turned to her questioning parents. She blinked, the shadow of confusion stirring within her eyes. 'What do you mean, where is she? I sent her off to fairy land, like you told me.'

Katarina frowned. 'She was, and still is, expected. It has been a week now that we have been waiting. Are you sure you sent her over?'

'Of course I did! I used the spell you gave me,' she affirmed, and her expression suddenly morphed into uncertainty. 'She's probably having tea with your freaky friend as we speak.'

'He is not freaky,' Katarina annexed, her patience wilting.

'His hat is so medieval...well, yours too now…' Christine specified, gazing at the pointy hat atop her mother's head with amused disdain.

'In Middle Earth, fashion is different! You are such a spoiled brat!' Katarina almost shouted.

'Please, ladies,' Hendrick interjected calmly. 'We have more important matters at hand. Now, did you, or did you not do as we told you?'

'Yes, I did, for the millionth time, I did! She's in Middle Earth!'

'In the Shire?'

There was a pause before Christine replied. 'Well...maybe I forgot to specify an exact location...'

'I knew it!' Katarina shrieked. 'You never listen! It was the Shire!'

'I got the Middle Earth part right, that's the most important.'

'You were supposed to send her to the Shire. It never once crossed your mind that Middle Earth is enormous? '

'Well, no.' Christine deadpanned. 'It's not like I've ever been there. And I don't even wanna; them dudes are so outdated...'

'So you just sent her...anywhere?' Hendrick dared, gulping on his anxiety.

'Yup.'

'It could be Lorien...or Mordor...you have no idea...?'

'Yup.'

'You don't know where she is. You have no clue,' Hendrick concluded, his eyes on the brink of tears, not sad tears, but panicked tears.

'Yep.'

'You are exasperating, Christine, and so is your vocabulary! Your sister might be dead or dying. What if she got captured by orcs or trolls?'

Christine's face drained of all colours. 'Dead?'

'I knew I should have not entrusted you with this task.' Katarina exclaimed, her eyes tearing.

'It's not like you helped me. I had to learn everything myself, I'm a self-taught witch!' Christine yelled, springing to her feet in a defiant manner.

'You mean a self-taught failure,' Katarina highlighted.

'Ha! You're a fine one to talk! You've both been searching for that same hobo, without any success. And how long has it been now? Eighteen…Seventeen years?' she offered, rolling her eyes.

Her parents frowned, the father less than her mother though. 'You should try to look for someone in Middle Earth, it's quite tricky.'

'You should try to look for sex in Harlette's book, that's tricky!' Christine put in. Her mother stumbled from shock, slapping a hand to her heaving chest.

Christine shrugged, 'Anyway, you're never here, and when you are, all you talk about is your precious Harlette.'

Katarina dismissed that comment with a wave of her hand. 'Don't even start, Christine, you know we treat you with much love too. You are the one always kicking us out of the house.'

Christine remained silent for a while, and she shrugged. 'Yeah, yeah ok….'

'Ladies. I am sorry to bother you, but Harlette is alone, in Middle Earth…'

'And in her underwear,' Christine sniggered. This assertion earned her a livid glare from her parents.

'What mischief have you done? You didn't tell her where she was going? And you sent her in her underwear?!'

Christine shrugged. 'I wanted to surprise her...her life is so boring...writing all these novels−'

'Which you so avidly read behind her back...' Hendrick interjected. Christine grinned broadly. 'Anyway, now is not the time for arguing,' he continued sensibly, 'let's find her. She is most definitely in middle-Earth, but where, that is the question. We'll locate her. Hand me a compass and Middle Earth's map.'

Christine rolled her eyes. 'Great, another spell which is gonna take ages…'


	22. Chapter 22- Personality Of A Troll

**Thank you so much for the encouraging words! Thank you so much Niki5249, Jane Midgard, Me and the anonymous guest! :P Your nice comments make my day! :P **

**I dearly hope you guys are enjoying the read, at least I'm having great fun writing the story...well, that's what is all about! :D**

**And there will be LOTS of Harlette/Thranduil moments! :P Good things come to those who wait...! ;) **

**Okay! Here goes, another chapter!**

**Chapter 22**

**The Personality Of A Troll**

Four days had passed since her awakening from illness, and since her last sight of the king; during those four days, Thranduil had been gone, beyond the palace's walls, to where? Harlette did not know, and would not bother asking. Why would she give a damn about the well being of a fantasy-boy who had saved her life?

Anyway, no matter how many days passed, Harlette thought of Sheliad frequently, wondering if this dream was a mere trifle or something more important. Little did she know that troubles would be forthcoming.

Despite being mostly locked in her room working on a new novel 'An Elven Thrust' (That title still needed work), Harlette would sometimes venture in the immensity of the palace, marveling at the strong pillars supporting humongous and magnificent ceilings.

Sometimes alone or accompanied by her faithful cat, Harlette would also stray in the never-ending gardens filled with flowers and plants of all shapes, colours and sizes. The great trees usually sheltered elven homes, which were nestled within their long and curling branches.

When night would fall, elves would be given to admiring the stars and singing to them. Harlette would listen to the ethereal music and quietly hum along, yet as soon as stares invited her nearer, she would flee to a more discreet direction.

The halls of Mirkwood were grand and sharply protected, for guards were everywhere, even on the palace's terraces located high above the pines.

It had rained last night, and the morning sun made the roses bedewed with dew drops glitter and pink under its golden gaze.

Her long auburn hair kissing her lower-back, and the hem of her silken, dark blue gown trailing behind her, Harlette descended the marbled stairs rapidly. Today she would be breakfasting at the common table, in the grand terrace with the other elves. It would be the first time she would share a meal with them, and this rendered her anxious. Bernard was not by her side this time, for this one had decided to linger longer in bed; cats require more sleep than humans, Bernard would claim.

Elegantly crossing the marbled floor of the grand, glittering hall, she let herself be guided by the sound of music, chatting and laughter. However, she stopped in her tracks at the sight of the empty throne at the end of the large room.

A shiver coursed through her spine as soon as the image of Thranduil appeared in her mind. At the remembrance of his angelic beauty and fiery touch, Harlette's heart lost itself in a demented rhythm, and her back slowly arched, and a small gasp escaped her pink lips, echoing in the quiet hall made of precious stone. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she hugged herself.

'Miss Harlette, how are you enjoying the company of walls and furniture?' A jubilant voice sprang from behind her.

The girl whirled around, ashamed of having been caught off her guards.

A handsome elf, dressed in blue and silver, with rich brown hair framing his handsome face, and eyes of a deep grey, now stood before her with a beatific grin.

'Ha-a-ve we met?' she stammered, a little disoriented.

'No we have not. I'm Elrohir of Rivendell,' he bowed. 'But I heard so much about you!'

'You did?' she asked, her expression still very much addled.

'Well, you talk and walk so loudly, tis hard not to wonder what is going on here. Most naturally I asked around. Bernard is a reliable source.'

Despite having caught a glimpse of, and being told of elven partying habits by Earwin, his jubilance surprised Harlette who still believed elves to be of a stern nature. Yet, his affability could not please her more, and so she stepped closer to him, smiling all the while.

'Oh, but Bernard has a tendency to exaggerate my defects,' she revealed, gazing at him, and then at her hands timidly.

'She has not exaggerated on the sound of your step or manner of speech, because, like I said, they are quite loud,' he admitted laughingly, and before she could screech, he had continued, 'but on your beauty, she should have placed more emphasis,' he finished honestly. Harlette stood flabbergasted by his forwardness, but accepted the compliment.

'Now, come and breakfast with us!' He ushered her confused self outside. In a matter of seconds, she was greeted by sunlight and by a feasting table laden with food. The aroma wafting in the air was of spice and honey, and the smell emanating from every surrounding flower only added to the festive mood. There were about twenty elves present; some sat, others walked around, a few even sang, and all had smiles glowing on their beautiful faces.

'Mirkwood is quite dull, is it not? Very dark and boring, I suppose,' Elrohir teased.

'Nah, your home is very nice, and you know it,' she winked.

He grinned. 'Bernard has not told me much about your origins, but it's quite blatant you are not from here, or anywhere near here.'

'Really? Is it so obvious?'

'I told you I'm from Rivendell, surely you cannot think Mirkwood and Rivendell one and the same, unless you are a complete stranger.'

Harlette blushed and stepped back, suddenly afraid of what conclusions he might draw. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

'Such fair features needn't be contorted with worry,' he whispered. 'I'll not question you about your origins,' he assured. Harlette immediately relaxed under his friendly gaze.

'At the feet of Hithaerglir, and sometimes lost in mist, Rivendell is well hidden. But it is beautiful nonetheless. I'm sure you would like it,' he told her.

Harlette agreed with his claim, and quickly went on asking about the nature of his business in Mirkwood.

'I'm here to visit some friends. And I cannot deny, I was curious to see what is becoming of these woods, if they are suffering Rivendell's fate.'

'What fate?' she asked, unconsciously tapping her foot on the ground, to the rhythm of the music.

'It is emptying, for elves are sailing west,' he answered, his tone suddenly distant, his eyes following a couple of dancing silhouettes.

'Why don't you go with them?' she asked, barely above a whisper.

'Well,' he let out, focusing on her anew. ' There is much to do here,' he merely said.

There was a silence. 'This place the elves go to...is it called Valinor?' she questioned, trying to apply the little she had learned from Earwin and Galion.

'She's well informed!' A voice startled her. An elf, the exact copy of Elrohir joined them. She suspected the newcomer to be his brother, and her suspicion was confirmed; this elf, introducing himself as Elladan, was Elhorir's identical twin. Their father was Lord Elrond, founder of Rivendell (also known as Imladris in the Elven tongue).

'Despite Rivendel emptying, father still choses to linger there. But he does sometimes travel to Minas Tirith to see our sister, Arwen.'

'You have a sister?' Harlette inquired, much intrigued. 'Is she as affable as you?'

'Arwen...as affable, I know not. But she is much fairer,' Elrohir grinned. 'And much smarter than him too!' Elledan added. Elrohir nudged his brother playfully.

'So, what will you be having?' Elladan let out at last, motioning to the yards of food stretching before them on the table.

Harlette sat down on a wooden chair, her expression pensive. 'Well, the usual... eggs, beans, bacon, chocolate, fried bread, normal bread, ham_'

'Well, just help yourself, lass!' Elhorir laughed, and Harlette did not have to be told so twice, for she was ravenous.

Grasping a large loaf of bread choked by a heavy coat of sticky strawberry jam, she stuffed everything in her agape mouth, much to the wholly amusement (and horror) of the twins, and of some nearby elves. Her eyes closed, and she reveled in the powerfully sweet taste delectably exploding along her tongue.

'A passion for food, almost rivaling with a hobbit's!' someone commented amusedly. Harlette, who sat hunched-backed, looming over her plate like a demented pig, her cheeks bloated like that of an obese hamster, froze.

Before her, at the other side of the table, a white staff in hand, and clad in long white robes, stood a bearded, middle-aged man, with eyes of a vibrant blue. She surmised him to be a wizard due to the large, pointy hat sitting on his head.

From behind him, appeared the splendid sight of Thranduil in armor. The elven king, his golden hair cascading in rivers of glimmering gold over his shoulders, held her gaze for a brief moment before studying the pile of food crushing her plate. Elrohir and Elladan stood at either side of Harlette, stifling their laughters, like children would do if their peer got in trouble after mischief.

'I see you have made yourself at home. I am glad,' Thranduil spoke, almost smiling at the sight of her bloated cheeks and panicked expression for having been caught in such an unrefined state.

Harlette swallowed clumsily.

'Please forgive me young woman, I should introduce myself before commenting on your appetite. After two thousand years in Middle earth, my mind grows forgetful at times!' the old man exclaimed, a hand to his heart in apology. Thranduil chuckled at the wizard and patted him on the back. Harlette watched them, smiling timidly.

'I'm Gandalf, and I heard quite a bit about you, miss Harlette.'

'You heard about me? Am I famous?' she smirked, her brows raising.

'Oh yes, your stubbornness is!' he exclaimed. 'It might be frowned upon by some, but I wholly appreciate a strong character,' he let out, and Harlette grinned at him. 'My source let me know you could make an excellent dwarf!'

Harlette's mouth popped open; was that supposed to be a compliment? A dwarf?

Elrohir and Elladan burst out laughing, and so did all the elves in the room. Gandalf frowned at the twins.

'A dwarf...how nice that sounds,' Harlette whispered, her eyes round and lost in the nothingness of shame. 'And who told you I'd make an excellent dwarf? And in what ways I'd make an excellent dwarf?' she asked slowly, almost mordantly.

Gandalf smiled kindly before motioning to Thranduil who bowed his head, a smirk on his fair lips. The romantic novelist's heart shattered in her chest, exploding into million pieces; Thranduil had compared her to a dwarf?! So, in no way would he ever see her as an object of sexual desire? Harlette chided herself for minding such trivial thing; she couldn't care less if her figure did not appeal to the king's eye...

'Oh, the king is right!' a high-pitched voice ricochetted through the space. 'I see the resemblance, its striking actually!' it giggled girlishly. Harlette's eyes met those of a she-elf standing farther off in a long pink dress, her blond hair intricately braided. 'O, my king, you are wise and sharp of sight!' she exclaimed, fluttering her lashes in his direction. Not everybody laughed, but some did, and the others tried not to. Thranduil's eyes landed on Harlette whose expression was that of a hurt child.

'Lady Melian,' Thranduil addressed the she-elf who cachinnated like a crazy hen. 'I believe someone as fair as you should show more decorum before our guest.'

Lady Melian immediately quietened, her cheeks pinking, yet, her eyes fluttered languorously in his direction. Harlette felt a pang of jealousy after having heard Thranduil label Melian as beautiful.

Gandalf glared a Melian. 'You laugh too easily, Lady Melian. Dwarves might not be the fairest, but their personality is strong and can be appreciated among those in need of a boost in life!' Gandalf abruptly defended, his staff striking the ground in emphasis. 'Indeed! And how right it is to compare miss Harlette to a dwarf, for indeed she is not fair, and her appearance, as well as her demeanor, most definitely makes me laugh!' lady Melian, commented, giggling even harder.

Her mood drowning in the quicksand of desperation, Harlette's hackles grew. She had come here to share a meal with the elves, and being told she looked like an ugly dwarf with a strong personality was not what she had hoped for.

'You are most definitely a young elf,' Harlette suddenly spoke, addressing her bully, much to the surprise of all in the room. Her piercing eyes met that of Lady Melian who stumbled almost imperceptibly backwards.

'How do you know that, mortal?' she spat, raising her chin up, her tone dripping with disdain.

'Judging by your teen-age bullying words, by your far-from-subtle jealous attitude, and your readiness to lick the king's boots and all his extremities...' her voice trailed off. She dared not look at Thranduil after having said that. Gasps of shock escaped lips, and Lady Melian blushed garnet, and before she could speak, on continued Harlette, 'it is quite plain to see that you are a young elf. A young elf cursed with stupidity. I might be mortal, but I undoubtedly have acquired more wiseness in twenty years than you managed to get over a hundred.'

The she-elf stuttered pathetically before uttering a stupid insult. 'Well! You look like a short male-dwarf!'

'And despite your young years, I bet you never saw a male upright,' Harlette replied, smirking wickedly, almost growing vampire teeth as she did.

Elrohir and Elladan glanced at each other and burst out laughing, shoulders quivering.

'Harlette, I will ask you to quieten,' Thranduil commanded, yet his lips seemed to fight a desperate need to break into a smile.

Harlette's mouth popped open. She shot to her feet. 'How dare you ask me to be quite when I am the one being insulted?'

'You have defended yourself quite vehemently. But I will not tolerate any further insults. You are a guest here, and shall remain respectful to your hosts,' Thranduil spoke calmly. 'And as for you, Lady Melian, I will ask you to display greater maturity in your speech,' he finished. The she-elf nodded and apologized.

'I do not want to be a guest in your palace anymore, your majesty!' Harlette let out, bowing hyperbolically low.

Thranduil raised an elegant brow, crossing his arms over his broad chest expectantly.

'I will leave right away!' She declared.

'Again with your empty threats?' he sighed. 'Where would you go?'

'Anywhere!'

'Very judicious,' he answered sarcastically. 'I was wrong about you...' his voice trailed off. 'Despite you sharing traits with dwarves, you have undoubtedly the personality of a troll.'

Everybody laughed, and so did Gandalf.

Harlette's mouth swung agape, and spinning on her heels she stomped to the grand windows. She halted and turned around to face all in the room. She puffed her chest.

'All of you are ancient freaks, old freaks that God forgot, who can't be arsed to get a bloody hair-cut!' she yelled, and with a hand on her heart, befitting the romantic novelist that she was, she spoke with dramatic vehemence, 'I am leaving for ever, you demons!'

'Harlette!' Bernard's voice shrieked from behind her.

The summoned one whirled around and glared at a horror-struck Bernard at her feet.

'Oh, get stuffed!' Harlette exclaimed, and bypassing the flabbergasted cat, bolted out of the terrace.

Her face boiling, an angry Harlette rushed across the hall, ignoring the desperate calls of a disheveled Bernard.

She ran outside, and descending the stone steps, she met a beautiful white, saddle-less horse at the bottom. She did not have time to question its presence there or her abilities to mount such a beast, for her body moved by itself; Adrenaline and rage shooting in her veins carried her easily over the stallion's back.

Its large hooves clapping on the wood, the horse galloped across the bridge, shooting through the grand doors left open.

Wind slapping in her face, her hair flying loose behind her, Harlette laughed madly, urging her mount to quicken its pace. They galloped through narrow paths, jumped over obstacles and rushed between trees.

Suddenly, they emerged in an open camp, grass stretching for miles before them.

Harlette's heart skipped a beat, when sudden realization dawned upon her: She didn't know how to stop the horse!

She screamed for help, and leaned forward, holding on tightly to the animal's strong neck, her body springing up and down as the horse whizzed through the air at lightning speed.

**OOoooo yeah...what's gonna happen now...I'm warning you, loads of cool stuff are gonna happen from now... :P **


	23. Chapter 23 - A misty Visitor

**Yo guysss (ooh, yeah, trying to get mah groove on...)! I hope you all are doing great! :D**

**I'm so excited for the hobbit to come out…I keep on counting the days….**

**Thank you guys for the super nice comments; they cheers me up so much and motivate me to write more!**

**I hope you will like this here chapter…romance is forthcoming, I promise! Just bear with me lol **

**Chapter 24**

**The Misty Visitor**

Her eyes were shut and the wind slapped her screaming face; the horse would not stop. Galloping across a grand field, they shot through bushy paths.

With their long, grey and crooked branches, the conifers erecting high above their whizzing frames were dark and menacing.

Crows flew in the aboves, and despite it being still morn, the day was darkening fast.

At last, the white stallion slowed his pace, trotting steadily along narrow pathways.

A disheveled Harlette with a slamming heart lifted her face up to notice her surroundings; encircled by great pines and black birds, there lay a large black pond. The horse stopped a little further before the murky water.

Despite being commanded to keep up with his journey, the horse stirred no longer.

Harlette looked down at the animal whose eyes had begun to tear. She blinked in confusion. 'Are you crying?' The stallion nodded profusely. Halette gasped in surprise, for she was not expecting to get a positive answer, and in fact, she had not expected to get an answer at all. First Bernard, now this horse...what next? A talking rat?

'Yo, mind your steed's step! You guys almost squashed me to death!' a screechy voice sprang from bellow. Harlette immediately bent over, her eyes landing upon a fat, kilt-wearing brown rat on the floor. 'Who the hell are you?' she asked. 'I'm the king of mah castle, so suck on this bitch!' The rat stuck up his middle finger at her and, quicker than lightning, scurried away into leafy bushes. Harlette remained frozen and utterly baffled, mouth wide agape.

There was silence in these woods.

The horse emitted several sounds and shook his head from side to side, striking the earth with his hooves. Harlette took this manifestation of impatience as a sign for her to hop off its back, and that's what she did.

As soon as her feet kissed the ground, she neared the bush where the rat had gone, and in doing so, she gazed down at the carpet of black flowers cushioning her every step. She shivered and her face screwed up in disgust when seeing several fat cockroaches lying idly about her path.

She glanced behind her. 'What's wrong?' she addressed the horse had tears rolling down its cheeks. 'Why are you_'

A familiar sound suddenly reached her ears. 'Ey...' she whispered, going back to the crying stallion, every ounce of her body alert. 'Can you hear this?' she caressed its soft nose reassuringly. The horse nodded several times.

They call me the Wild Rose,

But my name is Alisa Day

Why they call me it I do not know

For my name is Alisa Day...

Within shadows, a disembodied murmur sang endlessly. A soft melody accompanied the lyrics, and like mist, the sound shifted about Harlette before rolling above her and drifting away, losing itself in quiet darkness.

'I know this song!' she exclaimed jubilantly, a hand to her heart, her eyes sparkling. 'It's Wild Rose by Nick Cave!'

Black butterflies fluttered around her frame, and she smiled, for their wings sparkled with shades of green and blue.

Her body moved by itself, and she began to dance, and she began to sing:

From the first day I saw her, I knew she was the one

As she stared in my eyes and smiled

For her lips were the colour of roses

That grew down the river, all bloody and wild!

It was getting colder in these woods. Letting out a clouded breath, the horse walked closer to the pound, and lowering his neck, began to drink quietly. The black waters rippled, and a stealthy shadow moved bellow them.

'On the second day I brought her a flower_' Harlette's singing voice cracked to a stop. A dark silhouette of black fog stretched before her; an eyeless shadow with full red lips, smiling a range of sharp white teeth.

'On the second day I brought her a flower,' it sang, thrusting a misty, rose-holding hand to Harlette. Placing the scarlet flower in her palm, it continued to sing:

She was more beautiful than any woman I'd seen!

I said, «do you know where the wild roses grow

So sweet and scarlet and free?»

Harlette smiled, and she sang with her misty visitor who danced around her, a crowd of black butterflies trailing its ghostly steps.

They call me the Wild Rose

But my name is Elisa Day

Why they call me it I do not know

For my name is Elisa Day!

The horse drinking from the pond stopped doing so, and his eyes scanned the rippling liquid.

Something whipped from the water, shooting towards the animal. A large stem was now rolled round his leg, and it dragged this struggling beast to the water.

Harlette whirled around at the sound of desperate neighs. She ran to her mount, but the shadow blocked her, and any of her attempts to bypass it anew.

'Hello, beautiful!' the dark vision's red lips greeted at last. Harlette stepped back, her eyes fixed on the crying horse fondling to get out of the splashing waters.

'How are you doing, beautiful?' the shadow asked casually.

Butterflies came to sit upon Harlette's head, giving her a black-satin wreath. The grinning shadow held up a mirror. Harlette could not help but smile knowingly at her reflection. The mirror was handed to her, and she greedily contemplated her fair features, her blackening eyes lingering on her blood red lips which curled up into a smile. 'I had no idea I was so beautiful…' she spoke, her murmuring voice graver than usual.

The crying horse being swallowed alive by starving waters was now a blurry vision in the background.

The shadow chuckled and neared Harlette. When its misty hands grasped her shoulders, the butterflies that sat on her head fluttered away. 'You think him a good horse, worth to be saved?'

'Beg your pardon?' Harlette asked absently, admiring her angel-like features, running a hand through her hair. She smiled yet again at herself, her eyes now black as the night. Why were they black? She had no idea, but she liked it. The horse cried and cried, but she did not mind it.

A twig snapped from behind her. Harlette yelped and whirled around; it was just a rabbit passing by and disappearing into darkness. Feeling as if awakening from hypnoses, Harlette's blue eyes fluttered several times. She gasped in horror when seeing the panicked horse unmoving in the water- its head however was left out of it. The stem was all around its body, keeping the tired beast in place. Harlette bounded towards the horse, but the shadow blocked her way yet again, chuckling, 'don't worry, it's not drowning.'

Harlette she grew stiff before the mirror in her hands. It evaporated into a black smoke. Her breath grew shaky and heavy as she watched her now empty hand and then, the foggy silhouette. 'What do you want?'

'That, my darling, only time will tell,' the shadow responded. 'But let me ask you: Do you want to know what this is?' it sing-songed, pointing a misty finger towards the horse.

Harlette remained silent, unknowing of what to say.

'It's a nightmare.'

'A nightmare?' Harlette echoed.

'You are having a bad dream, and this horse is author of your troubles...'

'My troubles?'

'Well, you have been sick, rejected...bullied...' The shadow listed in boredom.

'Oh, yes...true...' Harlette remembered.

'This horse does not truly exist, well, he is a fantasy of your mind, he's your nightmare,' explained the shadow. 'And now is time to end your nightmare, which is why I came down here. I can help you go home...' it let out slowly, a hand on its forehead in a dramatic and pensive manner.

Harlette stiffened. 'Am I in a coma or something?' she asked, her heart quickening, her voice trembling like frail leaves shivering beneath wind.

The shadow shrugged. 'Yes, I suppose you are in a coma...'

'You suppose?! Brilliant, you suppose!' she let out sarcastically. 'Well who are you anyway?'

'I'm an advisor.'

'An advisor?'

'Well, yes, I advise people. When someone's in a coma, I help them get back to the light by advising them on what is best to do…' it paused, eyeing the girl before it. 'But I only help those who are worthy: the beautiful.'

'The beautiful?'

'Well yes,' affirmed the shadow, floating up and sitting on a branch above her head in a casual manner. 'You don't expect me to help the ugly now, don't you?'

Harlette shrugged, frowning deep, her heart blazing with sudden anger.

'Oh…' the shadow breathed, a hand bellow its chin, bellow a broadening grin. 'I know these elves have maltreated you. And they won't stop, especially the Dark King who hides his evilness beneath fine lookin' magic. All the more reason to go back home now, is it not?'

Harlette looked up. 'The Dark King? You speak of Thrandu_'

'Oh! Please, I beg you, hearing his name makes me shiver-and not from pleasure, mind you!'

Harlette gaped at the shadow who sniggered. 'Let's not talk about him now, my darling! We'll talk about him later! But now, right now, we must talk about what truly matters: your awakening!'

'So I'm not dead...'

'No you're not.'

'It's not just a mere dream...'

'No it's not. It's a nightmare. Please get the details right, my darling!'

'Alright...' Harlette digested his theory with difficulty. 'I'm in a coma...' she whispered. 'And you are an advisor?'

'Yes.'

'Do you give good advice?'

'Maybe.'

'You don't know?'

'That's for you to decide.'

Harlette's brows shot upwards in disbelief. 'Okay buddy, let's get down to business: are you good or bad?'

'That's for you to decide; I'm neither good nor bad; I just like to mind every business but my own!' it grinned and Harlette rolled her eyes.

'I could believe your theory of all this being a dream...' Harlette acknowledged. Floating back down from where it was perched, the shadow drew nearer Harlette, arms crossed over its chest.

'So that's it...I'm in a coma,' she affirmed, adopting the theory. 'I must have slipped and hit my head against my mirror. The glass most definitely shattered in my face, and my parents found me in a pool of blood...I must be in hospital now. My parents must be so worried...' Harlette conjectured, her voice rippling with anguish. There was a long pause before she looked up at the advisor. 'How do I get out of here?'

The foggy companion smiled broadly. It slipped its hand into its mouth, digging it deep into its throat, visibly rummaging for something. Harlette stood there, mortified when witnessing it pull out a long, long sword from its toothy maw.

The shadow wiped drool from its lips, and proffered the weapon to a dumbstruck Harlette who did not accept it. 'Yeah, I know; I've got skills,' it winked.

Harlette hemmed. 'Even though I am impressed by your deep-throating...' she sniggered, slapping the perversion off her tone. The shadow laughed girlishly, 'Yeah, you like them kinky stuff for your books, right!'

Harlette hemmed again, feeling a little awkward. 'As I was saying…' she started, '...my shock chiefly concerned my wondering of: why pull a sword from your mouth?'

'Well, we are going to need it in order to get you out of here.'

'So what, I gotta slay a dragon?'

'Please darling, dragons don't exist!'

Harlette kept silent for a while, and then she put her hands on her hips keenly.

'Kill the monster clad in white!' It pointed to the tired horse in the pond.

'What monster clad in white? You mean the Yeti?' Harlette questioned dumbly. The shadow would have rolled its eyes at that query if it had any.

'The nightmare, the horse!' cried it. 'He's foul, bringer of anguish and sorrows, and so he deserves no life!'

Silence stretched between them before it spoke again. 'A nightmare clad in white. It is the source of all your troubles. A black horse bringer of bad luck! Kill it and let us be done with it! You'll be home, with your romantic novels in no time if you do as I say!'

Despite its peremptory tone, Harlette did not stir. She was much confused about everything, going from the talking rat, to the crying horse, to the horse in the pond, to the shadow and to this whole thing about killing the horse in the pond.

'To get out of this bad, bad dream, you must find a key...' the shadow explained softly, breaking through Harlette's trail of thought and placing the sword in her open palm. 'And when you have the key, you just dig it in the right key-whole, and open the door to freedom. See, no big deal!'

The shadow laughed wholeheartedly, almost boisterously, and pushed Harlette towards the pond till she stood right beside the horse.

'Be_' the shadow burped loudly. Harlette's eyes fluttered with surprise. 'Apologies, big breakfast this morning!' it giggled before adopting a sterner posture. 'Behead it, my darling.'

Slowly, Harlette knelt before the wheezing animal.

The shadow beamed as it loomed over Harlette.

Harlette smiled darkly and raised the sword high. The horse shut his eyes, expecting his quietus to befall him at any minute, but it never did, for it was shadow which was violently struck with the blade. The victim gave an owlet's cry (so sharp Harlette brought her hands to her ears) and exploded, showering both she and the hose in blood and ashes. This moment was so quick, as in the blink of an eye it was over, and silence reigned in these woods yet again. Her heart beating fast, Harlette dropped the sword and studied the unmoving stallion and caressed his mane. 'I wasn't going to listen to some dark floating blob, right_'

KILL THE BEAST a voice rang everywhere: It was the shadow's. Harlette shot to her feet, the long sword in hand.

The voice cried again and again: kill the damn beast, or you die!

'NO!' Harlette screamed to the aboves. 'GET STUFFED!'

With those words said, the sword Harlette clung to, instantly disappeared into an explosion of ashes, with such violence, she stumbled and fell in the water.

An invisible force caught her ankle and viciously pulled both she and the horse down bellow.

Water spinning all around her, Harlette was shaken from side to side as she sunk, her arms flailing above her frame. Nevertheless, at a certain moment, she felt the grip round her ankle loosen. With her cheeks bloated and lungs straining, she gazed down, and her eyes rounded at the sight of two large shadows rolling over each other-one of the shadows was much bigger than the other. The horse battled fiercely against what appeared to be a giant octopus with sharp jaws.

Despite the horse's body being chocked by several enormous and sticky tentacles, it still kicked and bit the monster that got distracted from its second prey, Harlette.

Harlette's lungs begged for air, and she swam back to the surface. Absolutely drenched and cold, she hoisted herself up on land, coughing profusely.

Her instincts pumped by adrenaline urged her to leg it away, and she almost did, but she halted and looked behind her at the pond that had grown calm. With her heart slamming in her chest, rage cornered her emotion and she screamed so loud, her voice almost broke.

The sword the shadow had given her suddenly appeared in her hand. She did not ask how or why it had happened, for she dived back into the water with a warrior's cry.

Harlette swam deeper and deeper in the water, and much to her great surprise, she swam fast, with agility and speed, and despite the utter blackness, she sensed the presence of two bodies. She followed her senses, which were suddenly so acute she wondered briefly how such thing was even possible for a human being. She felt inhumanly stronger, and completely different, but she could not process the changes anymore, for immediately confronted with the monster she was to slay. She plunged blindly for one of the tentacles and stabbed it endlessly. The powerful sword slashed so easily through the thick flesh, and Harlette reveled at the feel of the enemy's blood all around her.

At last, the torn up tentacles lost grip of the horse which immediately swam back to the surface safely.

Harlette briefly wondered how it was even possible for a horse to have lasted so long with no air.

Harlette readied to climb back to the surface, but she never got the chance; a stealthy tentacle rolled all round her body. She struggled for freedom. The sword she had once held had disappeared.

With the lack of air, the feeling of horror and panic, the last thing she saw before falling into blackness was the water above her suddenly parting, allowing a diving body through it.

The horse neighed loudly at the edge of the pond where the water splashed endlessly, waves colliding with each other.

It took no time for the commotion to cease, till the liquid stirred no longer. Blood shot from bellow, spreading at the surface, staining the water with red.

The panicked horse backed away, when a body emerged, hauling an unconscious Harlette.


	24. Chapter 24 Queen Of All Foul Things

**Thank you so much for your commenting! I'm so happy you enjoy the story as well as the writing! It helps me and cheers me up a great deal! **

**Hobbit is coming up so soon, I'm on tenterhooks! :P This waiting is killing me! :P **

**Okay…enjoy! **

**CHAPTER 25**

**The Queen Of All Foul Things **

Lost in an abysmal deep, far across land and beneath mist, there was a lair; a lair so stinky and foul, all living things that flew or crept near had to flee.

The shadow floated above decomposing carcasses of human, animals and insects, following screaming, hissing and crunching sound. Little spiders and pests scurried beneath the Shadow's feet, following it, till it halted before the black mouth of a cave so great and dark, no fire could possibly illume the place.

'My queen, I have returned,' spoke the Shadow.

There was a moment before an answer was heard, and that answer exploded in a tone grave and dark. 'At last! I have been waiting for too long now!'

'I know, my queen. I had to wait for the right moment.'

'Are you bearer of good tidings?' it hissed, its question drowning in sounds of chewing, for the being melted in the darkness seemed to be eating.

The shadow did not answer. The chewing stopped for a moment and then continued.

The Shadow still did not reply.

'Has the Daughter fallen to our side? Has your mission been a success?' it asked, masticating profusely.

'Yes, my queen of all that is vile and repulsive,' the shadow let out, bowing, sarcasm dripping from its tone. The pests and little spiders surrounding the shadow fled in cracks of dead trees and rocks.

A monstrous scream boomed within the cave, making the rocks tremble and fall. The Shadow remained impassive as large stones fell through its ghostly frame.

'You lie!' the voice bellowed.

'Partly'

'Partly?' it asked.

'I did not lie about you being the queen of all that is vile and repulsive.'

Hissing sounds streamed out from the cave, and then there were screams, human screams, and then there was snapping, and then there was crunching. 'I have been waiting for your return. And here you are at last, with such news of the Daughter not having fallen to our side? You failed! You were to lure her, try her mind and make her yield to shadow, but without success!'

'I was waiting for the right moment, when weakness would finally claim her heart. And that moment came,' the Shadow explained. 'Harlette felt rejected by the elves, who are so fair and wise.'

'She did?' the queen asked, her tone wickedly curious.

'Yes, and she became angry and stormed out from the palace, into the woods. This anger triggered by the hurt in her heart was what I was waiting for to come in. And I did,' the shadow explained. 'I drowned her senses in hallucinations. I created an illusion of a horse and a monster. The horse took her to a pond, and then I tested her: The monster had the horse between its claws, and Harlette had the choice to intervene or flee. She chose to stay and save the steed. Not only is she good, but she is brave too.'

'You have failed then!' the queen screeched.

'My queen, this is only the first test, and corruption does take time. You cannot expect the Daughter to swing to our side so easily.'

'FORCE HER!'

'I am an advisor, your supreme highness of all that stinks: I cannot make choices for her, and I have no power to affect her directly. I may only try to influence her choice and create powerful illusions to lure her to your side.'

The angered queen growled and snarled.

'However, I have a cunning plan to get her on our side,' she Shadow unraveled, its full red lips smiling in a range of sharp white teeth.

The cave went silent, meaning the monster within it harkened.

'The Elven King. She is in love with him.'

Upon those words, the monster began to laugh. A laugh that was so dark and grave it made the very earth shiver.


	25. Chapter 25-You Were The Only Beast

**Yo ho! I'm BACK with a new chapter! I'm sooo happy to see that you guys enjoy the story! THANK YOU SO MUCH for the nice comments! **

**BY THE WAY, the chapter "an absolute nutter" has been changed, the beggining is re-written, cos when I uploaded the document, I forgot to paste the entire beggining...so i suppose it made NO SENSE! so if you are confused, you can read the chapter again...and it will make better sense...APOLOGIES FOR THAT!**

**The Hobbit is coming out NOW…I'm going crazy!**

**And Legolas will be appearing in the story very soon! **

**Chapter 26**

**You Were The Only Beast In Those Waters**

Thranduil hauled Harlette's unconscious body up on the brim.

'Is she dead? Is she dead?' Bernard yelled, her fur spiky with panic and her voice trembling in a delirium of frantic meows.

Placing Harlette on her back, Thranduil loomed over her, biding her to wake up. He received no answer and he cursed in Elvish, much to Bernard's shock. Several times did he press on her chest, till at last, Harlette coughed water. Her eyes popped open and she gasped, and shot to a sitting position, her head banging violently against his own. Thranduil reared back, a hand to his forehead, while Harlette fell back to the ground with a shriek of pain.

'She is alive!' cried a relieved Bernard. Thranduil rose up to his feet, his expression glacial, his hand massaging his brow.

A little dizzy, Harlette rolled on her side, shivering profusely as she did. Bernard plunged within her master's arms, yet, the cat's frantic cries of joy did not erase Harlette's awareness of the second, very familiar presence behind her. Turning around to meet the face of her savior, her breath caught in her throat.

With his soaked black breeches and tunic gluing to his godly body like a second skin, there he was, standing up in all his glorious beauty, his disheveled and drenched golden hair framing his face, giving him a wickedly wild appearance.

'You saved me!' Harlette blurted out.

'Oh, spare me from this nonsense. I merely fished you out of the pond,' he deadpanned.

There was a silence. Harlette swallowed a stone of discomfort at his curt response. In all romance books, the knight in shining armor showed gentler mood when confronted with the damsel in distress; Thranduil most definitely could not be categorized as a romantic hero.

'Merely fished me out? Look at you, you are soaked to the bone!' she let out, pointing at his drenched frame. Her eyes lingered upon the sword strapped at his waist; with its hilt set with many precious stones, it was long and leaf-shaped, and of beautiful workmanship. However, her focus did not remain much longer upon the weapon, for it drifted past his waist, downwards, much further downwards...

'Let us say, I had to fish deep,' he explained curtly, interrupting her avid contemplation of the forbidden.

'When you stormed out of the palace, no one reacted, for the shock and amusement was so great,' the cat described, fighting a smile. 'However a couple of minutes later, when all had calmed down, word was sent that you had run into the woods, so I went outside, but the forest is so dense and enormous…I begged King Thranduil to assist me in my search…' Bernard paused. 'We searched for you lengthily. And when we did find you, you were diving in the pond with a warrior's cry,' she explained. 'We waited a while, but you were not emerging, and when we approached the brim, we realized you were most definitely not re-surfacing. The king dived in the water to fish you out.'

Harlette stood mute and immobile.

'What kind of lame, angry suicide attempt was this, Harley?!' the cat let out, her white paws striking her master's stomach.

'Wha-a-what?' Harlette stuttered. 'Suicide? No!' she disclaimed. 'I was rescuing the horse!'

'The horse? What horse?' Bernard inquired perplexed.

'The horse that brought me here! Surely you have seen him!'

Thranduil and Bernard exchanged astonished looks.

'There is absolutely no horse here, Harlette,' Bernard clarified slowly.

Harlette gazed around her frantically, her mouth opening and closing as her eyes searched the woods and its trees standing tall above her.

'What are you looking for, Harlette?' the king questioned.

'The goddamned horse!'

'There is no horse!' Bernard yelled, and before Harlette could reply, the cat had struck her cheek violently. The latter slapped a hand to her visage, her mouth in an O shape of shock. 'You beast!'

'Please, pull yourself together, Harlette! You are talking crazy!'

However, the girl would have none of that and she shot to her feet, her eyes large with fury and bamboozlement. 'The horse! It must have been killed by the monster!'

'Again with that mammal!' Bernard hissed, a paw to her forehead.

'What monster?' Thranduil asked, with slight impatience.

Harlette whirled to him, her wet fair slapping her own face. 'Have you not seen that huge beast? Have you not battled it when you dived in the water?'

Thranduil raised a brow. 'You are the only beast I saw in these waters.'

Harlette snarled at him before shrugging dismissively, and strutting towards the edge of the pond, she gawped at it. She closed her eyes, recalling her vision of the horse emerging from this murky liquid to stand at the brim, and watch with panic the blood shooting up to stain these waters red. Her heart began to slam in her chest when realizing that, if she had been unconscious, how could she have a detailed image of the horse watching the pond turn red, when clearly, she had been drowning inside it. This vision most definitely was a fantasy of her mind when it fell into unconsciousness. But, if there was no horse and no monster, could all this have been another dream, just like the one she had had with Sheliad? Her eyes round and alert, she began to tremble; she needed to bridle her imagination or else the folk would deem her crazy and lock her up.

Her hands shot to her head, gripping her hair. 'What is happening!' she exclaimed helplessly. 'I'm not insane! I did see a horse, and I did see a monster! And you,' she turned to Thranduil. 'You battled it and saved my life!'

Thranduil drew nearer, and he placed his hands upon her shoulders. 'Harlette,' he began, 'there is no monster,' he affirmed. Harlette slapped his hands away from her. 'I see you don't believe me!'

There was a long silence.

Harlette huffed angrily, her fists at her waist. 'Why would I have plunged in the pond for no reason?!'

There was another long silence.

'Because you are a child, Harlette.' Thranduil broke the ice. 'You are a child, and a distraught one.'

Harlette shrieked in outrage, and before she could insult him, Bernard was talking: 'You fell ill, gravely ill, and you are still recovering. So most definitely, your mind is taking time to adjust. And adjusting is a hard task since you find yourself in this unknown world, where your landmarks have vanished!'

'A horse guided me here! I was lured here! I am not crazy! There was a horse, and there was a monster and there was a sha_'.

'Harlette!' he interjected. 'Speak sensibly. There is no horse, and there is no monster within these waters. It was a dream, and a powerful one, which took hold of your senses.'

Harlette's mouth trembled with the need to let out a cry of despair.

'Please, Harley, the king speaks truthfully. We both would have noticed the horse and the monster if there were any to be found. You were utterly alone,' Bernard explained softly.

Harlette's eyes found Thranduil's which studied her expectantly.

'Yes, you are right, Bernard…' her voice rasped out. 'My senses are still very muddled; I was asleep for too long, and this world is so alien to me, I have difficulty in finding my landmarks…' she justified. 'And as for my behavior, I'm sorry,' she told Thranduil who watched her intently. 'I got carried away cos of that Bicthlian,'

'Melian,' Thranduil corrected.

'Whatever,' Harlette replied, with a dismissive flourish of her hand, jealousy and a need to murder coiling up in the pit of her stomach.

Thranduil heaved a sigh of exasperation, 'I fail to understand how I keep such patience with you. I treat you with gentleness and respect, even though you prove to deserve none.'

'Gentleness and respect?' Harlette snorted. 'Oh, please! Don't make me laugh!'

'Harlette, stop that…' Bernard muttered under her beard. Thranduil glared, and he advanced towards the defiant girl.

'What are you thinking?' she asked uncertainly, stepping back as he drew forth, his eyes sharp like that of a hawk, his step soundless and predator-like.

'I am amused,' he shrugged, and kept on approaching her rearing self with a growing grin, a grin which only rendered him more beautiful and wickedly wilder.

'You are amused?' her voice dripped with ire and concern when she found herself backed against a tree, with him right before her, both his hands resting on the wood, at either side of her face.

'Yes, is it a crime to be amused?' he whispered, smiling darkly, his nose grazing hers. At the contact, her heart slammed inside her, and she trembled, but not from fear...

Despite having the wheels of her brain turning, Bernard uncovered no solution to pull Harlette from that tricky situation.

'It's not a crime to be amused, but I'm very curious about the source of your amusement,' Harlette responded in a clipped manner, her heart slamming harder when her heaving chest touched his every now and then. She felt sudden heat between their bodies, and her whole inner self writhed, yearning for his touch. His beautiful face was so close to her scarlet one, she could not think of anything else than what would be his reaction if she were to lunge for his mouth.

'You.'

'Me?!' she let out, all thoughts of kissing him discarded in forgetfulness.

'Yes, you amuse me, for its side-splitting how you take everything for granted,' he started, his gaze leisurely traveling along her baffled features. 'You always manage to show such little gratefulness to those who save your life, and I have done so...' his voice trailed off as his eyes descended to her porcelain shoulder, which was left bare by the sleeve which had slipped downwards. 'Oh, I lost count,' he finished with a grin, his hand slowly pulling the sleeve upwards. Warmth radiated from his touch into her body. She watched his fingers upon her shoulder, and her trembling breath grew scarce when her mind plunged in erotic fantasies involving him and her, with not a stitch of clothing to their names, lost in a passionate embrace. Slowly she looked up at her interlocutor. Their eyes met. His sensual lips were curling up wickedly: he most definitely knew every dirty thought that had danced in her mind. But o lord, she would not be outdone!

'Oh, my sainted skirts!' she blurted out, almost spitting at his face. 'Please! You saved my life be-be-because it is your duty as king to watch over mighty and meek alike, and not because you sustain any particular fondness for my person!'

Thranduil frowned and drew back. 'My duty?'

'Oh dear…here we go again…' Bernard groaned.

'You think it is my duty to watch over you?' he laughed. 'I know not what triggers my heroic behaviors when your life is concerned, but I assure you, Harlette, it is not my duty to watch over you. You, who have, after all, nothing to do with Mirkwood, and I suspect, nothing to do with Middle Earth at all.' Thranduil could hardly believe he dared linger by her side when important matters solicited his immediate attention, for indeed, Gandalf had arrived this morning with news of an alarming nature_

'You should stop stalking me then! You are but a freak who wears dresses in his spare time!' Harlette shouted, interrupting the king's thoughts. Her hand shot up to slap his face, but his grasped hers. 'Let go of me, Thranduil!'

'Not before you apologize,' he replied casually.

'For what?!' she yelled.

Bernard meowed angrily at their childish behavior.

'For absolutely everything. Apologize, or I toss you in the water with the bloodied remains of our late foe.'

'There is no foe, you told me so yourself!'

'But in your distraught mind there is one.'

'You wouldn't dare throw me there!'

'By Mordor I would!' Upon these words, Harlette was lifted up in the air and thrown over his shoulder. 'Stop it!' Harlette bellowed, slapping his back with her fists.

He took long strides towards the pond.

Suddenly, her weight was lifted off from his shoulders.

Bernard screamed meows of alarm.

Thranduil looked up, to find her screaming self floating above him, upside down, her skirts over her face.


	26. Chapter 26- Siniath Feg

**Hello! I'm BACK with a new chapter! THANK YOU SO MUCH for the encouraging words; You guys are so cool, thank you! It makes me so happy that you are enjoying the story and the writing! Things are slowly going get clearer, I promise… **

**Your comments gave me a boost! :D **

**Okay…I'll stop talking and get on crackin with thah chapter! :P **

**Chapter 27**

**Siniath Fêg **

Her ankle held by the curling branch of a great grey swaying tree, a screaming Harlette dangled above an amused Thranduil, her dress over her face – N.B. she wore underwear of lace!

Suddenly, the tree ceased its dancing.

Harlette, hanging there helplessly tried to shove her skirts back up, her gaze searching for that of her companions.

'Harley! Are you alright?' a perplexed Bernard asked, drawing nearer.

At first Thranduil was highly amused, laughing beatifically, arms crossed over his chest and admiring the view, but his humorous countenance slowly melted away when his eyes roamed over the tree's thick trunk; it was highly cracked, and in the little gaps could be descried rivers of cockroaches and spiders, their fat bodies tightly packed against one another.

'Bernard, do not move any closer,' Thranduil warned. And as soon as Bernard halted, a roar burst from within the large conifer. The cat stepped back.

Harlette yelled and wriggled, 'what's going on!? Will someone get me down before I get eaten alive!?'

'Harlette, be quiet,' Thranduil commanded. The girl obeyed.

Strange, high-pitched sounds emanated from the trunk; the insects stuffed in it moved and hissed fiercely.

'What is this madness!?' Bernard shouted, bounding backwards when slimy slugs dribbled from the tree's fissured bark, like rivers of black blood, down to the earth.

The angry tree's body twisted, and with each movement of the boughs, a gap cracked open within its chest, ready to swallow Harlette's writhing body. She screamed desperately when finding in the hole, a pool of yellow slime where bathed and screeched pests and spiders.

Remaining coldly calm, Thranduil addressed the conifer in his Elven tongue, asking it to place the girl down. The tree straightened, and seemed to look at him. There was a silence as it swayed slowly from side to side, till it stirred no more. Harlette floundered to grab a branch close to her, so to steady her position, but to no avail.

'_Là caritas alasaila cé nauva_,' (not doing it would be unwise) Thranduil remarked, his eyes blackening, his hand upon the hilt of his sword. Abruptly, the tree's body bended backwards, and hauling its roots from the ground, whipped them towards Thranduil who, with Bernard now squeezed under his arm, shun every blow dexterously.

With unpaired agility, the elf rolled to the side and sprang to his feet, sword in one hand, and cat in the other. And when the tree dropped its large head like a hammer to the ground, Thranduil slashed through one of the thick boughs, and placing Bernard down, grabbed a whipping root, and pulled it to him with unimaginable force. The tree froze.

'_Là navia caritalyas màra_!' (such behavior will bring you nothing good!) Thranduil's voice warned calmly, but the tree heeded none of his words. It roared. Thranduil further pulled on the root, destabilizing the leafy monster.

Harlette's ankle was released, and she fell painfully upon the grass. Quickly, she dragged herself away, behind a puny bush, hoping it would protect her. Bernard came by her side.

The tree bellowed and trembled as it tried to front the elf's abominable strength, but it dipped foreword, its back roots loosing hold from the earth, till its trunk creaked and cracked and fell to the ground.

Dust rose and fell. Silence echoed within the woods. Birds had vanished, and wind no longer drew breath.

Harlette stood up hesitantly, her dress ruined, her face stained with dirt and shock. Her eyes fluttering and chin trembling, the girl watched in horror and amazement the diabolically enormous tree on the ground next to Thranduil, who was but a miniature in comparison to it. 'And I thought that elf was just a sex icon…' she stammered whisperingly. Bernard was too dumbstruck to retort.

Quietness trembled when a grave wheezing sound was heard, and it came from that fallen tree. '_Luista nin_…' (I am thirsty)

Thranduil heard the pleas uttered in the Elven tongue, and he drew near the suffering being, his expression contorted with ire. 'The old wizard was right...' Thranduil murmured, referring to Gandalf, whom he had seen earlier in the morning.

'Should I spare your life, or should I not? One day I hope not to torment my mind with such questions,' the elf murmured, his hand tightening upon the hilt of his sword. He knelt by the tree and he studied it. His frown suddenly softened, as if he had discovered something alarming. His lips parted as he placed a hand on the bark which moved up and down with creaking sounds. 'By the Valar…' Thranduil whispered incredulously. 'You are no tree…'

A bright blue butterfly fluttered around the elf before resting upon his knuckles. It flapped its dusty wings before taking off anew, loosing itself into the skies.

Harlette and Bernard, who were further off, screeched disdainfully when Thranduil suddenly broke through the bark with his hand, shoving a confident fist deep into the pool of squirming, glistening insects.

The elf's skin began to glow slightly, and his eyes were shut, and his lips began to murmur an incantation in the Elven tongue. Screeches suddenly rustled within the bark, and swiftly, a stinky yellow slime rippling with black insects oozed out from every crack in the bark. The disgusting pests and spiders scurried across earthy ground, slipping and tripping over each other as they did. Yet, their attempt of escape would lead them nowhere, for large birds of all colors, their bright feathers glimmering under an increasing sun light, suddenly dived down from the skies, feeding upon them. Harlette and Bernard stood mute and disoriented with bafflement before the spectacle.

The tree's immobile and grey body slowly regained a green color, which first stained the tip of its roots before shooting all the way up to its leafy crown, shading it with gold. Its roots stretched, and slowly they began to entwine together and shrink, till they became shaped like two strong legs. From the trunk, there grew two large arms, along with a nose, a pair of ears, a mouth and globular eyes.

After a long and silent metamorphosis, the tree finally let out a long moan of satisfaction and relief, as if it was finally rising from a long and invigorating sleep. Harlette stood utterly baffled when the human-tree came to stand on both leafy feet, toweringly tall. It bowed at Thranduil.

'_Man de, Onodrim_?' (who are you, Ent?) Thranduil asked, rather sternly.

'Siniath Fêg.' (Rotten News)

Thranduil raised a dubious brow at that reply. 'Siniath Fêg?'

The Ent, which was male, sighed, its crown drooping slightly and its large eyes gazing downwards in embarrassment. He nodded, for Rotten News was his name. Nevertheless, before he could vocalize his affirmation, a cry exploded from a short distance. 'Siniath Fêg!'

From a corner in the woods, shadows split when leaves parted, allowing the sight of another huge, tree-like being; it talked, and it moved at leisure, and like Siniath Fêg, it had long arms and legs which were covered in a thick bark. Harlette gawped at this enormous structure's leafy head, prominent nose, large eyes and long, long beard.

The newcomer stopped before the slightly taller Siniath Fêg, studying him for a moment. A long pause stretched between them, and Siniath Fêg bowed his head coyly. Suddenly, the sturdy newcomer had its two large hands collide together, several time, in a manner Harlette surmised to be a festive one, for the tree-man laughed and hugged its colleague.

At last, the leafy visitor turned to Thranduil and slowly, very slowly, bowed low, its head almost touching the floor.

Thranduil smiled, and his smile was a beam of light, for this giant was no stranger to him. _'Gwannas lû and, Fargon_!' (it has been a long time, Fargon!) 'However, little did I expect to see you here,' Thranduil added in the common tongue.

Fargon grinned broadly. _'Ni veren an go ngovaned hi_ , Thranduil!' (I am very happy to meet you here, Thranduil!) Stretching out a branch, Fargon touched the Elven King's shoulder amicably. 'The old and slow Ent that I am,' he started at leisurely speed, 'was searching for Siniath Fêg…' his voice trailed off as he drew a long, long breath.

There was a silence, and all waited for Fargon to finish his phrase. Harlette shifted on her feet nervously when seeing Fargon's eyes flutter open and shut, and open and shut. Finally, he opted to keep them open, and resumed speaking anew; he had all the time in the world…'But it seemed you have found Siniath Fêg before I did,' he noted, his gaze drifting from the elf to his Ent-companion at snail's pace. 'I know not what madness took over Siniath Fêg's senses; he moved so fast-so fast for an Ent- I could not follow. But as I searched for him, I was terrified for I felt something dark around him,' Fargon described between long breaths.

An incredulous Harlette shook her head. 'So you have no idea of what has happened to Sin-iath-e Fêg?!' she let out, struggling to pronounce the name.

Fargon smiled sheepishly. 'No, young lady. But I see that whatever darkness was around him is now gone, and I believe it is thanks to you, my friend,' Fargon told Thranduil, bowing down gratefully.

The Elven King nodded and gazed at Siniath Fêg. 'I do require explanations. For you underwent no meek transformation.'

Fargon blinked in puzzlement. 'Now did he? A transformation?'

Harlette fought the urge to slap a despaired palm on her forehead; this Ent, Fargon, was very, very slow!

Thranduil tilted his head to the side. 'From Ent he became tree.'

'And an evil one at that! He attacked us!' Bernard supplemented. Harlette gathered the feline in her arms protectively when Fargon bent to gaze at them questioningly.

'Oh, did he? He attacked you? My, I should have hurried,' Fargon stated slowly, gazing in the nothingness.

'Fargon knows nothing. He knows less than you, King Thranduil,' Siniath Fêg spoke shamefully. 'Let me explain,' he offered, and all harkened.

'It happened in a late afternoon; Fargon and I were discussing by the river; we discussed about finding ourselves Entwives outside Fargon Forest,' he began. 'Our discussion was interrupted when trees began to exchange stealthy whispers. We never heard such sounds before,' he acknowledged. 'These whispers were graver than usual, and when they occurred, the birds would cease their songs subsequently,' he explained. 'Anyway, when we listened closely, we heard these whispers spoke of something dark,' he paused, drew a breath and looked around as if frightened. 'They spoke of an ancient evil, the type which lurks and hisses and dwells only in darkness. The type which fears but also needs the light,' he described and he drew another breath before carrying on. 'We were much intrigued before the source of such dark tale-and by the tale itself-, so we abandoned the idea of finding ourselves wives, and followed those whispers. They led us here, to Mirkwood. They are so loud here, and they are desperate. The trees are desperate, and when we question them, they won't speak, they won't answer, they won't even whisper.'

'We met Gandalf on the way, but he did not speak to us,' Fargon annexed. 'He seemed in a hurry...' his voice trailed off.

Thranduil nodded and said nothing.

'But what happened to Siniath Fêg, I know not, for we got separated. I am as curious and dumbstruck as you are, my friend,' Fargon acknowledged. 'What drew me here were screams,' he admitted. 'I thought someone was in trouble!'

'Precisely…I was in trouble, upside down and exposed…' Harlette muttered darkly, arms crossed over her chest. Bernard nodded.

Siniath Fêg was asked to explain, and that he did thoroughly. 'For a couple of days now, a voice was in my head, and it whispered,' he began the tale. 'At first, I did not know what it spoke of, for the words were unclear. But I got so curious; listening to that voice became my chief concern. I did not confide in Fargon, and after four nights, the owner of the voice appeared.'

Harlette and Bernard's mouth were agape as they harkened.

'A Shadow stretched before me,' Siniath Fêg said. 'And it spoke clearly.'

'A shadow?' Thranduil echoed.

Harlette's eyes fluttered in perplexity. Could it be that same shadow she had spoken to? Could it be that so-called advisor? Her mouth opened and closed, and acid seemed to eat away her stomach as she repressed her yearn to scream: I SAW A SHADOW AS WELL!

Yet, as she glanced at an austere Thranduil, a slow Fargon and a shy Siniath Fêg, her will to contribute to the discussion faded away; if she were to reveal such information, would Thranduil lock her up for questioning? He might distrust her even more. Nevertheless, what terrified Harlette the most was: if she were to come across the Shadow again, would her fate be like that of Siniath Fêg a few moments ago? Her heart slammed inside her chest, and her palms began to swelter; what was she to do? Should she speak, should she not?

Harlette sensibly decided to listen to the whole tale, and discover more for herself before revealing anything else.

'This Shadow and I would sit together at night and talk about lots of things lengthily, till suddenly, I heard a singing voice in the distance. A voice so beautiful I knew not if it were in a dream,' Siniath Fêg illustrated. 'The shadow asked me if I liked the song. I said yes. And then it asked me if I would like to listen to it forever. I said, most willingly. And then it told me it was a she who sang it, and she waited for me,' Siniath Fêg tittered, a shade of red marking his green cheeks. 'I always dreamed of finding myself a wife,' the tree-man confessed.

'Don't we all…' Fargon added with a forlorn sigh, looking into the distance.

'The shadow promised me I would meet her if I agreed to leave Fargon and follow it. The deal seemed rather simple. I went to tell Fargon of my decision, and I heard his cries of war in the distance; he was being attacked by orcs,'

'Orcs, again!' Thranduil snapped. 'Their constant presence sickens me.'

'Yes, my friend, orcs never seem to vanish,' Fargon agreed jadedly.

Siniath Fêg kept on recounting. 'I heard his cries, Fargon was calling my name. But I did not heed him, and I left selfishly. I cowered away, for I never battled an orc in my life. I was selfish and afraid,' Siniath Fêg told. 'After I left, I only have a vague memory of straying through darkening forests, slower and slower. The singing voice was loud in my mind, and sleep gathered on my eyelids. I remember something moving inside me and drawing me to the ground, controlling my body, silencing my mouth and my will. I was a spectator, but no author of my actions,' Siniath Fêg wept. 'And I am ashamed, oh I am!' he assured and turned to Harlette. 'I am sorry, little lady. I dearly hope you were not injured!'

Harlette walked towards him. Pulling out a small handkerchief from her pocket, she offered it to him. Thranduil and Fargon smiled at the strange sight of the tiny human offering an even tinier tissue to the colossal Ent. 'No harm done, big fella. You're just an incurably romantic giant freak,' she assured Siniath Fêg who smiled, and accepting the offered gift between two fingers, dried a single tear drop from his cheek.

Fargon resumed to speak. 'I knew not why or where he had gone. It was a mystery. No matter, I managed to get the orcs off my back. It was a child's play, for they are like ants really; easy to smash. Moreover, they were little in number.'

'But they are difficult to kill, trust me, I know from experience…' Thranduil drawled, more to himself than to Fargon, as his disparaging eyes landed on Harlette. Her gaze met his, and when she realized he had compared her to an orc, she glared and puffed at his face.

Fargon hemmed. 'I searched lengthily and I tracked his scent, and he reeked of evil. I was very worried, and he moved so fast for an Ent!' Fargon described. 'But in my search for him, sadly, I found, here in Mirkwood, trees that have gone dark.'

Thranduil's lips formed a straight line. 'How so?' he asked. Fargon would have replied, but an disbelieving Siniath Fêg beat him to conversation: 'Dark?!'

Fargon nodded sadly. 'Yes, my friend. It seems you were not the only target of this strange evil.'

'Why did you not tell me anything?!' Siniath Fêg nearly shouted.

'Well, you were a tree, son! I did not even know where you were!'

'Dark trees…other trees like you?' Harlette interrupted questioningly.

'Siniath Fêg and I are no trees, my dear! We are Ents, we have much bigger purpose than to stand immobile, thinking about things!' he chuckled slowly, his eyes opening and closing, almost as if he was going to fall sleep. 'We watch over the forest,' he explained kindly. 'Well,' he added unhurriedly, breathing almost after every word, 'perhaps I should be thinking more. I say us, Ents, do not think much about things…'

Harlette, her mouth round, nodded in partial understanding. She smiled at him.

'So, these trees which went dark… you imprisoned them. So, they are Killer-trees now?' she inquired curiously.

'They do not try to kill anything, no. At least, not yet,' he replied, 'but they rot and they seem to contaminate their neighbors. Something evil took hold of them, a sort of virus. They moan evil curses and shake birds off their branches. And there is grey slime oozing from their bodies,' Fargon described, shivering from disdain. 'I had to imprison them, for they curse loud and smell like feces of dying orcs. They are rotting, and as they do, they contaminate their neighbors which end up sharing their fates. Moreover, animals, they flee. Mirkwood is very unsafe,' he clarified. 'Thranduil,' he turned to the King, 'I know not how this evil came into being, I know not of this Shadow Sinath Feg speaks of, and I know not how he came to be transformed into a tree,' Fargon affirmed, gazing at the elf intently. 'But I know you have the power to help those who are affected by this virus. I know you can chase it away. Please, would it be too bold to ask you to follow me?'

Thranduil watched Siniath Fêg and Fargon.

'I shan't lie to you, my friend. Gandalf the White came this morning to inform me of darkness being powerful in this forest.' Thranduil admitted, and Fargon placed his hands on his waist. 'Oh, well this is where the old Wizard was heading to; your home! And he was quite in a hurry to get there, I say!'

Thranduil nodded. 'His fear of the whispers and their tales of evil is bigger than mine; I have been accustomed to darkness, so it does take more to spur me into action. But I trust the old wizard's presentiments. Yet, he told me naught of this sickness and this Shadow Siniath Feg speaks of, and I must say, these elements alarm me, for I have never heard of such things.'

'Indeed, for neither have I!' Fargon exclaimed with more vehemence than was his custom. 'If The Shadow is the virus, then it is a difficult enemy to target, for it goes by unseen. Maybe, there is more than one Shadow.'

'This shadow is cunning and corrupts minds with its silver tongue. We must be vigilant for it could target any race, I am sure,' Thranduil ventured. 'The sickness and the Shadow are most definitely linked. I believe once it ensnares its chosen, they fall into this rotting and aggressive illness, and the symptoms vary according to the different races. But the Shadow is no longer present when its victims display signs of illness, for when I healed you, Siniath Fêg, I felt no other presence within you. I only felt the sickness.'

A large silence flapped over everyone.

Harlette bit her lips, thinking of her own Shadow; Ents and trees were not the only ones targeted, Thranduil was right. She needed to be vigilant and silent, for she knew the Shadow would pay her another visit soon enough.

'But let us stop theorizing,' Thranduil invited, and he turned to Siniath Fêg, 'I may cure a mind, but I cannot do so endlessly. Siniath Fêg, where does your allegiance lie from now on?'

'Fargon is my master, my lord. I shan't betray him a second time, and my will is strong.'

Thranduil studied Siniath Fêg sternly.

'I will show no further clemency if you decide to opt for betrayal anew,' Thranduil warned, his eyes frosting. The Ent bowed in understanding, vowing his heart would be stout.

'So will you come with me, Thranduil?' Fargon asked.

After a long pause, the Elven King turned to his friend. 'I am Mirkwood's King, and it is only natural I assist those who need help, especially those dwelling in this realm. Lead me to them, Fargon.'

In a matter of seconds, his wish was the Ent's command, for Thranduil hopped on one of Fargon's branches, and off they went, disappearing into the woods, Siniath Fêg following behind timidly.

Uninvited to the excursion, Cat and master stood there, utterly baffled. Nevertheless, Harlette would not acknowledge defeat, and so, cradling Bernard in her arms, she plunged through leaves and small webs, and ran as fast as she could, till she bounded on one of Fargon's leg, gripping it tightly. Bernard meowed angrily when squeezed between Harlette's chest and the strong bark.

From where he was perched, Thranduil whirled around and glared daggers down at the romantic novelist. 'Harlette!' he shouted. 'Go back to the palace at once!'

Fargon laughed as he kept on with his heavy treads. One of his branches pulled Harlette up to sit next to an irate Thranduil. 'Please, make yourself comfortable, it is not a short walk! And I must say, having female company is always appreciated' Fargon said.

'Thank you, I do agree with you, which is why I insist on coming with you!' Harlette answered, Bernard at her side.

'Why must you be so tenacious, Harlette?' Thranduil glowered.

'I don't know the way back to the palace!'

'Your cat may smell the way back,' Thranduil suggested sarcastically. Bernard rolled her bright blue eyes. 'Or maybe you can hop on your imaginary horse and it shall lead you back.'

Before she could curse at him, Fargon broke in, 'How long have you known each other?'

'Not long enough, for this human dares trifle with my patience!' Thranduil muttered, and jumped to sit on another branch, above the human in question.

Harlette growled at him, and she reached for the branch above her, and climbed on it.

Thranduil rolled his eyes at her resolve, and he jumped on a branch higher. Harlette's eyes blinked at his agility. He looked down at her, and waggling his brows, he smirked smugly. Harlette frowned and, stretching her arms, tried to jump and grab the branch, but to no avail; she fell on her bottom. Thranduil grinned and shrugged, and lounging on his own branch, he gazed at the sky, hands clasped behind his head. Sunlight caressed his perfect features as he closed his eyes in perfect contentment.

'You are acting like a baby,' Harlette taunted angrily, arms crossed over her chest, like a child who had been refused a sweet.

'This is merely an experiment, Harlette, for I try to understand your ways by adopting your behavior.'

Fargon snorted humorously.

The walk carried itself in silence.

Harlette sighed ruefully after a while. 'Very well, I am sorry, Thranduil. It is true, you did save my life a couple of times, and I never truly thanked you…'

At those words, Thranduil flipped on his stomach, and leaning down, he looked at her, his smile flashing. 'Ah,' he let out. 'Am I finally going to have a treat from your pretty mouth?'

Harlette's eyes widened. 'A treat from my mouth!? How dare you be so forward?! It's not because you are king of a strange land that I will abide by your every wish! Your boldness is more powerful than Siniath Fêg's when he is corrupted by the Shadows!'

The mentioned one moaned. 'Please! Why torture me by reminding me of my dark deeds,' he let out helplessly. Fargon placed a comforting hand upon the other Ent's shoulder.

Thranduil grinned wickedly. 'I meant apologies, Harlette. Your mind is dirtied by perversion; you ought to clean it with soap.'

'Oh get stuffed Thranduil!' she shot back, grimacing.

'And your mouth…and your body,' he annexed, sniffing the air and grimacing as if she smelled. He winked at her before flipping on his back, looking at the sky and conversing with Fargon.

'I have never seen the King in such playful mood,' Fargon whispered to Thranduil. The latter almost yelped from surprise. Him? Playful? Never! That had not occurred in years! Thranduil lifted his chin up disdainfully_. __'Ci ben-ind, Fargon?_' (You make no sense, Fargon)

Remaining silent for a while, Harlette's cheeks were scarlet and her heart raced. _**'I nanetheg thia sui Tarog**_!' (Your mother looks like a troll!) she shouted upwards, making sure it pierced the elf's ears. It did.

His eyes almost exploding inside their sockets, Fargon tripped, and Siniath Fêg bumped on him. Fargon burst out laughing, and his whole body trembled. Harlette's branch shook vehemently, and she rocked backwards. Yet, she did not have time to shriek, for she was immediately pulled back upright.

'I haven't laughed like this in a long time!' Fargon exclaimed.

Steadying herself on where she sat, Harlette looked up at the Ent's laughing visage and grinned, 'it seems the message got across!'

Thranduil had remained quiet, and Harlette was glad for that, for it seemed she had won the battle of wits. She sighed contently as she nuzzled something warm and hard. It was so comfy.

Bernard meowed.

Cradled in comfort and safety, Harlette closed her eyes, smiling contently, almost drifting into sleep.

Bernard meowed.

Harlette's heart flipped in alarm.

Bernard meowed.

Harlette's eyes fluttered open. She was hugging someone, who was not hugging her back-but who did not pull back either.

Bernard hissed.

Quickly Harlette pushed herself away from Thranduil's chest, unwrapping her arms from his neck.

The wheels of her brain were turning, and she tried to apologize, but could not. She pretended to inspect her hands. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She knew the elf to be smiling, so she dared not confront his stare.

'The Elvish word for troll is not 'Tarog', but _Torog_,' Thranduil spoke at last.

After a while, Harlette dared look at him, her cheeks crimson. She nodded.

There was a silence. She would not be defeated…

'Thranduil?'

'Yes, Harlette?'

'What's the Elvish word for Fu_'

Fargon coughed loudly, so loud in fact, the whole forest trembled.


	27. Chapter 27 - Erecting High

**Hello! I'm wholllly back with a new chapter! And by the way, MERRY CHristmas TO ALL OF YOU! **

**Right now I'm at home with my parents, just chillin on the internet...yeah...I should try to go skiing but I really do suck, so I feel safer on fanfiction...! xD **

**I went to see the Hobbit! and I saw it TWO TIMES! It was very good! I laughed when Legolas (he changed alot, but still looks very good) gazed upon the picture of Gimli, cos we all know they are gonna be best buds in a couple of years! :P I do hope Tauriel is not going to break his heart though...**

**When I saw Thranduil on the screen I was awed! This elf truly has something different and very interesting. The actor was really good in acting the Thranduil of the book! (can't wait for the movie 3!)**

**And YES! Thranduil is AMAZING! I really like this elf because he is different from the others (especially cos his view on life is very interesting due to his age, the things he went through WITHOUT the help of a ring of power to protect his realm, unlike Galadriel and Elrond (they are awesome, but they have rings of power to protect their kin, unlike Thrandy who needs to fight evil without any help). Not having a ring of power forced him to adopt a more materialistic view on life; and this can make him appear greedy and less wise to some people! At first I thought that he was dark, with eyes solely focused on shiny things, but he has his reasons! And all this hardship he ought to go through to protect his people makes him a truly great elven king! Well, I think he's fantastic!)...okay...I will stop talking now...i'm getting carried away. :)**

**THANK YOU SO MUCH for your super encouraging comments! It makes me SO HAPPY to see that you guys are enjoying the read! I'm really enjoying the writing! I really love to write, especially now when it's cold outside! :P But thank you so much for reading, and taking the time to let me know how I'm doing! :) **

**I'm thinking of tons of ideas to make the story slowly start to shake it, shake it! ;) I hope you will also like this chapter! This one is more about explaining things (cos they will be important later on!) and chillin...**

**Erecting High**

The walk had been long. For about two hours now, Fargon had been leading the group towards a great hill where he had imprisoned the party of contaminated trees.

The forest was dense and shadows were thick, yet the afternoon sun pierced through the transparency of green leaves and bright butterfly wings, basking the atmosphere in an orangey-golden glow. With the Ents laughing from time to time, and Thranduil's voice responding to this laugher, birds and other animals strayed near them, confidence glorious in their hearts; no spiders were to be expected about the mighty Elven King and two Ents!

Merely listening to the Ents and the King conversing together, Harlette had not proved very communicative during the journey, and the same could be said of Bernard who had dozed off into dribbling slumber, lounging on her back, paws up in the air, in complete and graceless abandon, a couple of blue butterflies fluttering about her frame.

Sitting crossed legged upon one of Fargon's many branches stretching from his gigantic chest, Harlette's mind drifted constantly towards the shadow she had seen, and towards Sheliad, the spider crawling in her dreams. She feared confiding in the king, for despite him showing less animosity towards her person, Harlette trusted only little her fate within his hands if she were to reveal her experience with the Shadow, and talk once more of Sheliad. Moreover, Harlette was left in wonderment before Thranduil's character; something about him was dark, yet she could not judge this darkness to be evil.

She gawped up at him; he was not looking at her, but at the horizon of trees. With his legs dangling idly beneath him, he sat on a branch higher above hers, and with his hair of gold and silver hue cascading over his shoulders, his glimmering emerald eyes lost in the distance, and his mouth curling up on his angel-face, it seemed his mood was a gentle one.

'You are amused?' Harlette asked when beholding his light-hearted expression.

He raised an elegant brow down at her. 'Don't you ever mind a business that is chiefly your own?'

'You were smiling openly, so your business is now public. Even Fargon is interested!'

'I never lead one to believe anything of the sort,' a defensive Fargon countered. With her attention roused by sudden commotion, Bernard opened one blue eye.

'If you truly wish to know,' Thranduil began, his calm stare roaming over his interlocutor's curious visage, 'I was just remembering our first encounter.'

'Our first encounter? And it amuses you?'

'I am left with two choices, Harlette; to be amused, or to be horrified,' he elaborated curtly. 'But I wish to see things in a positive light.'

'What is so horrible about our first encounter?!'

'When I invited you to the palace, you spat at my feet. You even stole my clothes.'

'You did not invite me in the palace, you forced me inside!'

'And you referred to my realm as a "dark garden",' he carried on, unmoved by the heckler.

'No, my king, that is not true,' Harlette corrected wickedly. 'The dark garden most definitely referred to Melian's bush.'

Bernard hushed Harlette.

Thranduil spared her a boyish grin. 'Why did you venture in those dark gardens?'

With her face pinking, Harlette blinked in confusion. 'I beg your wholly pardon?'

Thranduil shrugged passively. 'Well, to give such an accurate depiction of Melian's bush, surely you must have ventured in the area more than once.'

Bernard guffawed. Harlette grimaced in disgust, 'you are horrible!'

'You started it,' Thranduil winked at her teasingly, and Harlette could not prevent a smile from reaching her lips.

It was fair to note that Thranduil had grown less arrogant, and more agreeable, than the first time they had met. And as she contemplated his glowing features, it dawned upon her that despite him appearing like a young man (even though his age would give him away as ancient) he seemed to look somewhat younger; in his eyes, a glint of playfulness had blossomed. Moreover, he did not wear those long robes and crown of his, which were the attires of a wise, immortal and cold king; and although those fitted him remarkably, the black breeches and the black tunic he was clad in now made him seem more approachable, and Harlette, well, she felt more comfortable forgetting he was a very much loved and very much feared, ancient, Elven King.

'Thranduil?' Harlette blurted out. The summoned one glanced her way.

'How did you cure Siniath Fêg? And how did you know he was not an actual tree?' she elaborated. 'When he was lying, almost lifeless, on the ground at your feet, I saw your expression change when you looked upon him. Then you shoved your fist in his bark…'

Siniath Fêg cringed at the recollection of that painful event.

'Did he?' an incredulous Fargon questioned. Bernard confirmed, and added that she had come across prettier sight.

'I knew he was no mere tree because I took the time to listen,' Thranduil specified. Glimmering like rubies under golden light, three playful butterflies came to land upon his shoulder. Harlette marveled before the beauty of the insects' bright sapphire disks on their wide and crimson wings, where coursed veins of silver, very fine and shimmering.

'To listen?' Harlette repeated at last, her eyes not leaving the ruby pixies.

'To listen and to look. An Ent does not breathe like a tree, and its bark is not as hard as that of a tree,' the elf said, inviting one of the scarlet creatures to sit upon his palm. And, jumping down from where he was, Thranduil landed soundlessly on her branch. Harlette studied his graceful body as he came to sit next to her. With silken gentleness, he placed the red butterfly against her ear, like a gentleman would slide a rose in his lover's hair. The butterfly did stay there, beating its dusty wings at leisure, enjoying Harlette's lusty locks so fair.

Thranduil eyes met hers. She looked away.

'What do you mean h-his bark is not as hard as that of a tree?' she inquired, the color of her cheeks marrying that of the butterfly's fragile wings.

Thranduil's strong hand came to envelop her small one. When feeling his skin so thoroughly against her own, her breath trembled, and she bit her lower lip as a strange but wholly pleasurable sensation suddenly emanated from his touch, crawling along her arm to spread in a splash within her chest, stirring in the pit of the stomach, coiling in the deep intimacy of her body, before shooting up to her face and making her cheeks hot like burning log-fire. Was he casting a malicious spell to make her feel this way?

Before she could fidget to shake this strange, tickling and growing sensation off her body, he had gently placed her palm against the branch she was seated on.

Her stare came to linger against his in an endless kiss, and when he smiled, removed his hand from hers, and lowered his stare, she realized he was trying to show her something.

Confusedly, she looked down at her fingers now resting on the branch she sat upon, and her eyes widened in surprise when realizing that, when sparing further attention, this rough and hard bark was no bark at all, but a very thick skin filled with tiny pores.

'It is harder than the skin of a troll, but softer than the bark of a tree,' Thranduil explained, watching amusedly as a marveling Harlette ran explorative hands over the branch.

'I absolutely loath it when we refer to my skin as harder than the skin of a troll!'

'Why?' Harlette asked an angry Fargon. 'Trolls are quite cuddly!'

Thranduil's eyes squinted and went dark. 'You have a fondness for all that is vile.'

Harlette's studied him confusedly; she had seen numerous cartoons of Troll Dolls (more commonly known as Dam Dolls) and they were most definitely not repulsive. 'No, they are not vile! On the contrary, they are so small, they like music and they have pink hair! How is that vile?'

Thranduil gawped at Harlette, clearly thinking her to be off her trolley. 'I know not of what trolls you speak of, but those of Middle Earth are mighty and bloodthirsty, and most definitely do not come across as cuddly or melodious.'

Harlette's rounding mouth bespoke her bafflement. 'Oh...well obviously, we are experiencing a culture clash.'

There was a brief pause before Harlette carried on with talking. 'But Thranduil,' she began. 'How did you turn Siniath Fêg back into an Ent? That was so wicked! Are you a wizard?'

Thranduil's expression contorted with something close to shame, as if he had just been insulted. 'I am not a wizard. I am an elf, Harlette. Siniath Fêg was sick; his soul was corrupted. When a soul is ill, its shell usually undergoes the same fate. I merely healed him. By healing Siniath Fêg's soul, I healed his body. The art of healing is no mystery to elves.'

Harlette dismissed his words with a flourish of her hand. 'Please, do you truly think me one hair short of a fuzzy pup?'

Thranduil inquired on the nature of her queer expression, but Harlette only puffed at his relaxed countenance. 'Don't try to avoid the subject! I know all too well what you do is no common healing. It's much stronger! You have magical powers!' Harlette affirmed, her exclamation earning her a faint smile from the elf.

'Do explain yourself, my friend. Do not leave our little lady in the shadow of doubt!' the old Fargon urged, his ear eager for a tale or two.

'What gives me the ability to heal every wound is the Song of the Earth,' Thranduil answered at last.

'The Song of the Earth?'

'The Song of the Earth is a guide. When using this guide, one receives great power in terms of healing. All elves, and some powerful wizards, can hear the Song of the Earth (and hearing it is true privilege), yet very few can put what they hear to use.'

'But you can use it? It's like magic,' she conjectured. 'How do you use it? I guess you have some book of spells.'

Bernard raised furry brows at Harlette's bold rejoinder.

The elf smiled at the girl's charming inquisitiveness. 'The song of the Earth is no magic, and there is no book, and there is no spell,' Thranduil elucidated. 'Harlette, elves are not like wizards,' he insisted, striving to explain with greater clarity, 'wizards use magic, elves are part of magic. A wizard dedicates his life to the studying and mastering of magic. Great wizards sustain a talent to learning it quickly. Elves heed not its study, for magic dwells within them at birth-explaining the immortality, the great speed, the superior strength and other qualities pertaining solely to the Elven race. But seldom are Elves keen on developing greater magical abilities. They are not interested in creating fire with their bare hands,' he told her as an example.

'So Elves could develop the magical abilities of wizards, but doing so is not their primordial goal? Well, anyway, as they are immortal, there is plentiful time within their hands for them to change their minds,' Harlette surmised. Thranduil nodded affirmatively. Twigs cracking beneath his heavy steps, Siniath Fêg walked very closely to Fargon, hearkening to this enlightening talk in ways befitting a diligent student.

'And now, regarding the Song of the Earth; it gives those who can use it, the ability to heal the most serious of wounds. It also gives one great alertness and physical strength,' Thranduil elaborated. Harlette nodded, mesmerized by the beautiful jewels which were his eyes. 'And like I said, all elves, and some wizards, hear the Song of the Earth, but only some elves (and very few wizards) can use it. Listening to the Song is a rare gift, but wielding its power is even rarer.'

'And yo-you can listen and wield its power,' Harlette concluded a little clumsily. Thranduil agreed with her.

'What does the Song of the Earth sound like?'

It took a while for her question to find a response.

Thranduil's stare slowly came to meet hers, and he watched her intently, and despite her will to shy away from his look, she could not move, and she wondered if he had done something to freeze her senses. His lips slowly curled up.

'The Song of the Earth is a voice, and it is strange, but it is the fairest voice ever imagined. It is pure, yet it is dark. It is soft, yet strong. It is melancholic, yet filled with gladness. It is unbridled and passionate just as it is cold and reserved. It is a whisper, yet it is a shout. And as it unfolds, it only grows more beautiful, more delightful to the ear.'

'Must be orgasmic…' Harlette trailed off pensively, her eyes searching the high ceiling above her head made of leaves, branches, and specks of sun light. Watching her, Thranduil smiled. 'Very much so,' he only said.

'This voice is the purest, yet the dirtiest sound that could ever be imagined!' Fargon's laughing voice abruptly echoed within the forest.

'You heard it?' Harlette addressed the Ent.

'Despite my long lingering years, I never heard anything, and if I did, I don't rightly know. You see, I am as deaf as a post, little lady. And as for the others of my kin, I do not trust their ear to be better than mine,' Fargon confessed and Siniath Fêg nodded. 'I only have heard about the Song of the Earth and its beautiful voice.'

'By whom?'

'By the Elven King sitting by your side.'

Running a palm along her arm, Harlette gazed at Thranduil questioningly. 'Truly, there is no voice like the Earth's?'

'The voice of the Earth is said to have been heard from the mouth of one of the Valars. He was the only one with a voice that could equal that of the Earth. But this tale of old morphed into a vague legend. Melkor was the Valar's name,' Thranduil illustrated, his tone suddenly cold. As if struck by violent wind, Fargon's skin rippled and his green leaves trembled.

'So you mean this Valar, Melkor, could sing like the Earth?!' Harlette chuckled; somehow, picturing a man singing like the Earth disturbed her. 'Both the Earth and this dude had the same voice? How is that even possible?' an amused Harlette snorted loudly.

Thranduil arched a curious brow at her crude and infantile manifestation of hilarity. 'No one knows. He was extremely gifted.'

'Well, he's a lucky bastard…' Harlette whispered, more to herself than to her companions. Bernard nudged her master, urging the latter to adopt a more respectful tone.

'When he sang, his voice was wholly pure, yet it was tainted by darkness. But no matter, it was the fairest voice ever heard, sounding just like the voice of the Earth. Despite him having such unimaginable gift, he lost himself in shadows, and his music met a terrible end, becoming heavy, cruel and ugly,' Thranduil explained.

'Melkor,' Harlette articulated, the name rolling on her tongue easily.

'He is also known as Morgoth. Nevertheless, we refrain from speaking of him. His name is a sickening sound and a sickening taste. He was the first dark Lord, and war against him was great,' Thranduil recounted.

'He is evil, and he created evil,' Fargon annexed, and something about his look and shivering leaves made Harlette uneasy.

There was a sudden change in the atmosphere; the little specks of sun reaching the ground disappeared as they entered murkier parts of the forest crowded with large, forgotten spider webs. Thranduil's emerald eyes had gone pitch black as he gazed at what the crawling wanderers had left behind; Harlette felt an icy breath emanating from the elf's body, and that sent fear rippling in the pit of her stomach.

With whispering winds roaming freely around them, large black crows perched themselves upon grey trees, their beaks ejecting several loud and taunting croaks. Beating their wings hard against their bodies, they flew off from their branches, their frames melting into thick veils of shadows stretching between the many trunks.

Harlette was suddenly aware of desperate hissings, and when she looked down from where she was, she discovered these sounds to belong to plump cockroaches and large ants straying upon the ground, fleeing the Ent's heavy feet.

'But Melkor was defeated, right?' Harlette ventured after a while.

None spoke. There was complete silence, safe for the branches creaking and snapping beneath the Ents' every step.

Wind ran ghostly hands through her hair and face, and Harlette shivered beneath its cold touch.

'So...What are the Valars?' Harlette broke the ice at last.

'They are the powers of Arda,' Thranduil responded, his stare softer. 'The Valars came to Arda, and helped to shape it through music.'

'Arda, you mean, Earth? And Valars… they are like gods?'

Thranduil glanced at Bernard who nodded affirmatively; dwelling longer on accurate explanations would result in Thranduil having to recollect all of Middle-Earth events, starting from its creation.

There was another change in the atmosphere when the sun showed itself anew, illuming shadows. And when it pierced through remains of silver spider webs bedewed with rain drops, it blessed the forest again with its fairy-tale beauty. With their glowing abdomens, the dancing fireflies lured every eye.

'I wish I could hear this Song of the Earth you speak of so fondly, Thranduil,' Harlette confessed dreamily, picturing a strange voice singing something hybrid in her mind.

Suddenly, her lashes were caught in an abrupt flutter. 'Ey!' she exclaimed, 'Could you teach me how to listen to the Song of the Earth?!'

Thranduil tittered, and tapped his forehead pensively. It took sometime before he came to reply, and when he did, his tone was an uncertain one. 'I'm afraid that would be impossible, Harlette.'

'What? There exists no teaching of it?!' she exclaimed. 'I'm sure such has happened before! Elves most definitely have taught a human or two! Come on, Thranduil, do teach me, we have time in our hands!' She gazed at Fargon and at the ground, 'We do have time! Since Fargon walks so slowly, we'll still be here tomorrow! So why not get crackin'?'

Siniath Fêg grinned. 'Ents take their time, young woman. And we admire the forest, and admiring takes time.'

Harlette shrugged and pressured Thranduil who only chuckled. 'Please! Do teach me!'

'You have no idea what you are asking of me, Harlette,' Thranduil answered, his lips twisting into a confused smile.

'Thranduil, I can see in your expression that there is a way!'

'Oh yes there most definitely is a way, and I believe you would be a most willing and diligent student!' Fargon guffawed, and Siniath Fêg joined in. Thranduil shot a playful glare up at the Ent. '_No dhínen, Gin iallon Fargon_,' (be silent, I beg of you, Fargon)

'_Goheno nin_, my tiny king,' (Forgive me) Fargon replied lightheartedly, bowing his head.

'_Farn, Fargon_.' (That's enough, Fargon)

The Ent shrugged, and Thranduil focused anew on Harlette's demanding stare.

'You are right, elves can teach it to humans,' he agreed, 'but that is very seldom done.'

'Why?'

'Yes, why, _my King_?' A knowing Fargon invited the elf to explain. Thranduil glowered at the Ent warningly.

'Come on! Why don't you want to teach it to me? You think I'm a dumbo?' she challenged.

'Despite you being implacable in the art of coining words and foolish behavior, I do not doubt your intelligence, Harlette. But if I were to teach you how to listen to the Song of the Earth, I'm afraid you'd have to share your bed with me for the rest of your life,' he explained, trying hard to remain earnest. 'For an elf to transmit such knowledge to a human, both must bond,' he unraveled, now unable to hide a massive grin before her priceless expression of acute embarrassment.

'I...I didn't mean...I−' Harlette stuttered helplessly, feeling outrageously breathless, her cheeks ablaze.

'I trust you did not,' he assured, placing a hand upon his heart, a gleam in his eye.

So discouraged she felt by the situation, Harlette could only overreact childishly, in hopes of saving the little pride she had left. 'Well, I thought there existed a way of learning the theory without having to actually mind the practice! And after all, I would never lower myself to exchanging saliva with you! Disgusting, argh!'

Thranduil laughed at her reaction which befitted a toddler's after having seen his parents exchange but a simple peck on the lips. 'I didn't expect this subject to draw such disdain and mortification on your face.'

'What subject?' she shot back, her voice unsteady.

With lips curling to one side and brows arching, Thranduil studied her up and down knowingly.

'He's talking about sex, you baboon,' Bernard sighed exasperatedly.

Feeling utterly cornered like a fat hamster in a cage, Harlette put her hands on her hips. 'I object! This subject holds no mystery to the likes of me! I know everything about the art of love and lovemaking!'

Thranduil raised a skeptical brow at her. 'Somehow, I doubt that.'

'I beg your fat pardon? What makes you think that?!'

'Despite you claiming to know the theory, I somehow am quite confident you have had little practice, if any at all,' he acknowledged, and even though his tone was calm, there was mischief lurking within it.

Harlette emitted a gush of outrage, and both Bernard and Thranduil laughed when she stood up and climbed up on another branch, so to distance herself from the mocking duo. 'It's not because you elves are older than my great grannies that you are the only experienced lovers around. I'll have you know that I make love in my mind everyday of the week!'

She roused unbridled guffaws with that assertion.

'And so what if I'm still a virgin! That is no concern of yours, and it gives you no reason to bully me!'

'You are unmarried, lass?' an astonished voice suddenly reached her fuming ears.

Harlette crossed her arms over her chest. 'I am very young to be married, Fargon.'

'How old are you?' Siniath Fêg asked curiously.

'I just turned nineteen!'

Both Ent's mouths fell open in awe. 'But humans marry much before that age!' an incredulous Fargon informed. 'Have you got no suitors? Someone as fair as you must have many suitors?'

Thranduil grinned when watching Harlette puff her chest smugly under the Ent's compliment.

'Well, yes, some boys are interested, but I have never been properly courted, for the same problem always keeps me from going past a first date….,' she explained solemnly. 'They never want to read my books. Well, you know how boys are...'

The Ents stared at her with pity. Even Bernard gazed at her with pity.

'Boys are interested, you tell me...' Thranduil spoke pensively, wickedness glimmering in his pupils. Harlette nodded. 'But what about men?' the elf offered innocently.

Harlette puffed angrily, and then, she inhaled deeply, trying to calm her spinning head. 'Anyway, although I might not be familiar with the practice of lovemaking, I'm perfectly aware of its theory, since I contribute to it greatly!'

Thranduil raised a suspicious brow.

'You do? You contribute to the theory of lovemaking?' Fargon asked in bewilderment. 'That is a strange occupation, little woman? How do you proceed with such a task, if I may ask?' Siniath Fêg grimaced from curiosity.

'I write books about it! And many people read my books, for despite my young, human, years…' she fired a glare a Thranduil, 'I'm a published writer!'

Thranduil sputtered a laugh. 'You write books about lovemaking?'

'Oh no…' Bernard muttered, her white face devastated by shame.

Harlette's heart slammed in her chest as she faced Thranduil's highly amused and incredulous expression. 'Well…yes…but my books deal with more than just lovemaking. They deal with…' she strained to find the appropriate words, and she faltered and she stammered; 'they deal with relationships between men and women…and it is complex and very difficult to understand for it is complicated to make sense of it…'

There was a silence.

'You have never been properly courted, and you have never been subjected to anything related to...' Thranduil's voice trailed off, and he grinned, oh-dear, so broadly. 'My question is, and I beg you, do not take any offense, Harlette,' Thranduil began, a hand below his chin, his eyes studying her with playful curiosity, 'How is it you can write about (and contribute to) something you have never experienced before?'

Before the elf's wickedly cunning countenance, Harlette fidgeted, the wheels of her brain turning. 'Well, umm...I was kissed once!' she retorted animatedly, raising a finger in the air.

Thranduil smiled, oh a dazzling smile, and he laughed, and the Ents laughed, and even the cat laughed.

Harlette fired a defensive glare at each and every one of them. 'It still counts!'

Thranduil was the first one to regain composure. 'Will I be able to read one of your books someday? I am very curious.'

Harlette's heart flipped at his unexpected question. She studied him and was astonished to find that he was genuinely interested in her writing. 'Well, if I ever get back home and pop by Mirkwood to visit, I'd be glad to have your opinion on it,' she told him, her head held high.

'I doubt it will be your kind of literature,' Bernard warned the elf.

'Oh, I am sure it will be! For it teaches men how to court women, and how women wish to be treated,' Harlette disclaimed immediately.

'You believe I ought to be taught about a woman's needs?' Thranduil questioned amusedly.

Unable to speak, Harlette hemmed and sweltered before that devil-smile of his.

'Ah, so you believe I, after all my long years of life, have no experience in courtship matters?'

Harlette's cheeks were red, too red. 'How old are you?' she asked, trying to change subjects.

Thranduil chuckled, 'Answer my question, Harlette.'

Suddenly, Fargon tripped and stopped dead in his tracks. Bernard and Harlette gripped around them for balance.

Fargon petrified with something looking like fear. A concerned Siniath Fêg came by the Ent's side. 'Master, is everything well?'

Fargon said naught and only stared at the further off, his bearded mouth agape, and his eyes round with shock.

Thranduil looked up inquiringly at the Ent's frozen expression. The elf climbed up several branches till he was on Fargon's head, inspecting the distance.

Basking in golden light, and bathing in silver mist, there was a grassy hill, on top of which grew a massive and leafy stem. In fact, this slender, bright green plant was so huge its height could neither be descried nor guessed, for erecting so high, it pierced the sky, losing itself in thick white clouds. Big black crows circled it, the fog shifting around their flapping wings.

'This does not belong to Mirkwood,' Thranduil noted in calm alarm, his sight traveling along this alien growth.

'My trees, they are gone!' an anguished Fargon let out, explaining that right in their very stead shot up this gigantic stem. 'They are gone! Gone!' he shouted wildly. 'So is my sanity,' Harlette murmured, wondering about the reality of this mad dream she had stumbled into.

With Siniath Fêg following, Fargon rushed up the hill, faster than any Ent had done before, and reaching its top, he made towards the colossal growth, his globular eyes trying to descry its end which was but a guess lost in cloudy heavens.

'The trees were right here!' Fargon insisted, pointing down before him. Then, he looked up, his mind haunted by a disquieting (and growingly despondent) thought, 'I fear they must have been carried upwards…This monster grew from bellow their feet, and in its escalation, pushed them up into the sky!'

'You really think the trees you've imprisoned now stand, way up there, past the skies?' Bernard addressed Fargon.

'Yes, for what better explanation could there be for their disappearance? We must find them,' Fargon pressed, helping Harlette and Bernard down onto the grass.

Thranduil swiftly jumped from the branch he sat on. 'Worry not, Fargon. They will be found,' the elf assured, 'but the mystery behind this strange growth ought to be uncovered as well…' Thranduil's voice trailed off as he examined the plant.

Suddenly, the skies emitted a loud, loud scream, more powerful than thunder. Bernard yelped, her fur rising in spikes. All looked up, trying to discern the author of the cry.

The clouds high up began to shift, and from them, wild cries exploded, losing themselves in rivers of hearty cachinnations; it seemed something wholly enormous was making merry up there.

The five companions remained silent, letting this wild laughter like splashing waters, wash over them. At last, the noise subsided, vanishing into silence.

'By the Valars, what is happening?' Thranduil questioned at long last. With her hand playing idly with one of the stem's thick and giant green leaves, Harlette arched a dubious brow at him, 'but this is Fairy-Land, aren't you used to things like this?'

Thranduil whirled to her, his expression bereft of all gentleness. Harlette backed away, but his iron grip kept her in place. 'Harlette, I will be thorough with you. Here is not what you call Fairy-Land. It is Middle-Earth, we are in Mirkwood where none can grow forgetful of danger, for there is no such thing as a kind-hearted troll. I heartily hope you will speak and behave more sensibly if you cherish your life.'

'Where is me violin so I may accompany thy beautiful voice?' she let out bitterly, refusing to be outdone by him. Bernard sighed despondently; the journey had gone so well, and now there they were, fighting again!

His iron grasp upon her arm tightened and he pulled her closer to him. 'You are very bold with me, human.'

'You are not my king, elf,' Harlette snapped barely above a whisper, trying hard to control her need to cringe under his strong hold.

His eyes bore into hers. 'I might not be your king, but your feeble body is on my land and thus under my mercy. Do not forget that.'

Bernard and the Ents remained unknowing before the duo. Silence fell upon everyone.

At last, Thranduil let go of Harlette's arm, and leaving her side briskly, he circled the humongous stem. 'It seems like a giant beanstalk,' he spoke. Upon these words, Harlette's eyes widened and her mouth popped open as she recollected something she had heard once before; a tale of old.

He grasped a few of those many leaves and he pulled at them; they were very thick and solid, yet flexible like rubber, and could not be torn. Effortlessly, he hoisted himself up this plant, and resumed climbing along it with great speed and agility.

He halted, and he bent his gaze to his gawping companions. 'This beanstalk is bound to have an end,' Thranduil declared, 'I will uncover its origins. In the meantime, Fargon, lead the others to the palace and call for reinforcements.'

The Ents nodded in agreement as they watched Thranduil go up and up the stem with unpaired ease and grace.

Suddenly, the elf stopped in his tracks, and he glanced downwards. He glared at Harlette and Bernard who had resumed following him with difficulty (the cat was nimbler though).

'Harlette, your journey ends here!'

The bearer of the name did not relent, keeping on with her activity.

'I tried to tell her, but she hardly listens,' a humorous Bernard specified, bypassing her master and reaching Thranduil.

'It's not because you saved my bacon more than once, Elven King, that you may tell me what I can and cannot do! Anyway, I am not asking anything from you,' Harlette assured acrimoniously. 'I'm simply satisfying my curiosity, since I wish to know what lies up there,' she claimed, resting for a while and taking a deep draught of air. 'And, believe it or not, your majesty, but I am actually familiar with this green thing.'

Bernard nodded affirmatively at Thranduil whose silence proved his curiosity.

'It reminds me of Jack and the Beanstalk!' Harlette unraveled smugly.

'Jack and the Beanstalk?' Thranduil repeated as he watched her drag herself upwards clumsily, tripping on the hem of her long dress.

'Yes!' she replied eagerly, stretching her arms, grabbing the leaves and pulling herself up as her legs pushed. 'It's a fairytale! Jack finds a beanstalk and he climbs it, and once on top, he meets a giant!'

Thranduil sputtered a derisive laugh down at her. 'A giant? What madness got into your mind, human?'

'Oh my! You have trolls, giant spiders and dragons, yet you, Thranduil the stupendous, don't believe in giants?'

'Dragons are extinct, Harlette,' the elf deadpanned.

Harlette rolled her eyes at his assertion. She finally reached him, and he sighed exasperatedly when she passed him at sluggish pace. She shrieked when she slipped downwards, her bottom hitting the elf's face.

'At the rate you are going, we will be here till next morn,' he informed, his hand pushing her behind up, and away from him.

'Where does the 'we' come in here? I didn't ask you to wait for me−'

Her phrase was unfinished, for he had grasped her by the waist and swung her over his shoulder. Her eyes widened at the grassy ground far below. She screamed for him to place her down, but he did not, and with the words 'hold on,' he pushed himself with acute agility up and up the beanstalk, a laughing Bernard following behind him, more slowly, but still, very easily.

The two Ents remained in place, waving the trio a hearty farewell.

After an hour of immobility and of looking upwards worriedly, Fargon slowly turned to Siniath Fêg. He smiled. 'To the King's palace!'

Siniath Fêg nodded his agreement.

It would take a long time for the Ents to reach their destination, so the journey had better start now.


End file.
